


Alter Pulse!

by Kenkaya



Series: Alter-verse [1]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Mutants/Superpowers, Especially for Hiro, F/F, Government Conspiracy, Government Experimentation, Growing up is tough, Post-Canon, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenkaya/pseuds/Kenkaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team has barely put Callaghan behind bars when a new mystery strikes San Fransokyo. Random civilians begin developing superpowers, and the government seems involved in a bad way. But when certain members of Big Hero 6 start showing signs of power as well, it becomes personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Patient 0

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the BH6 Big Bang, and the first in a series of three stories I've planned. Enjoy!

Red light splashed across the blocky white pillars guarding San Fransokyo General’s ER entrance: bold color flashing in rhythm to the ear-drilling screech of ambulance sirens. Shen paused outside for a moment to watch the frenetic display. He pulled the collar of his grey trenchcoat high against the persistent damp night chill as paramedics ran a loaded gurney past wide glass doors, wheels clattering harshly each time one moved from cement driveway to smooth linoleum flooring. A second ambulance pulled into the circular driveway to join the first and Shen exhaled. He scratched absently at the two-day stubble on his chin before gesturing towards the pair of goons standing just behind him. They had a job to do.

Shen’s years of experience shone through in the way he walked casual-yet-brisk across the parking lot, dress-shoe heels clacking with clipped precision as he stepped through the hissing automatic door. Ink black eyes scanned the hectic lobby until they landed on a familiar face: a middle-aged man in blue scrubs, with salt-pepper hair and dark circles permanently etched along the concave curve of his eye sockets. Shen shuffled over to stand beside the overworked medical assistant, fishing a laminated I.D. badge out of his coat pocket and revealing the tail-end of of a green-scaled dragon tattoo when the motion pulled his wrist cuff up. The other man gave a jerky nod as he leaned over to examine the document.

“Here for Dr. Vasquez again?”

“He’s expecting me,” Shen answered gruffly, truly a man of little patience. “You know the drill, Gus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gus grumbled. “Never know exactly what they send you here for, agent, but I do know that you don’t need me to give you directions by now.” 

“No, I don’t,” the agent snapped, snatching his badge out of the other man’s proffered hand with more force than necessary.

“I need to check theirs, as well,” blue-grey eyes flicked up to critically take in the twin muscle standing on either side of Shen. “For security purposes.”

“Of course.”

Both men handed over their I.D.s, while Gus smiled blithely. He took his sweet time examining them, tilting each card several times, at different angles, before he was satisfied. Shen could only gnash his teeth at the passive-aggressive act.

“Alright, you’re good to go.”

“Thanks for the waste of time,” Shen threw over his shoulder, already halfway to the heavy double doors before Gus even finished his statement. “Prick,” he whispered as a distinct buzz sounded alongside the click of a lock disengaging.

Awash with cold fluorescent light, the bright corridor on the other side was busy, but not unusually so. Doctors and nurses walked past them, clipboards in hand, not once pausing or regarding the clearly non-medical personnel with any amount of suspicion. Shen was a familiar enough sight by now. He strode forward purposely- turning left, passing three turns, then right- as his two guards trailed behind.

“Agent Shen,” a tall doctor, wearing green scrubs under his pristine white coat, suddenly approached the trio. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.”

“What have you got for me Vasquez?” said agent responded, straight to business. “It sounded urgent on the phone. I thought we already had our check-in for the week.”

“This is… unrelated to the project,” Dr. Vasquez admitted sheepishly, twisting the gold wedding band on his left index finger nervously as he spoke. “I just needed to get you out here quick since we don’t have the proper facilities to... contain him.”

“Him?” Shen asked, mouth twisted wide in annoyance at the false alarm. “We’ll have a long talk about how you lied to get me out here after hours later… but who is this ‘him?’ And what do you mean by proper facilities?”

“Well, you see,” Dr. Vasquez began as he ushered them inside a nearby elevator- holding his chipped name badge against a scanner just below the panel before pressing the basement level button. “Several patients came in from the showcase fire last night… most were minor injuries- concussions, skin abrasions, smoke inhalation, and the like. But, there was a young man with severe third and second degree burns over a good portion of his back and upper torso, the left side of his face is a lost cause for the most part, left leg (along with the connected hip) crushed… between late teens and early twenties, unconscious, unidentified. We rushed him into surgery… got him stabilized (had to amputate his left foot just above the ankle, unfortunately), but afterwards… well,” he handed a yellow manilla folder to Shen. “I think your department will have... an invested interest in this.”

Shen flipped the folder open, grumbling all the while. His irritable mood didn’t last. Color drained steadily from the agent’s face as dark eyes scanned further down the page. When the elevator ‘dinged’ overhead to signal their arrival, he was far too absorbed in the material to notice until a guard tapped his shoulder- twice. 

“You... said he was unidentified, right?” Shen whispered, glancing up from the chart on the last page. “A John Doe?”

“Yes,” Dr. Vasquez confirmed. He led them down another bright fluorescent-lit hallway, this one far more deserted than the upstairs facilities. “I take it the trip down turned out to be worth your while?”

“If this data means what I think you’re implying? Yes… definitely yes.”

They paused in front of a chrome steel door, a single soot-stained two-by-two window at eye-level. The grey, cloudy plexiglass offered little in the way of visibility inside the room.

“This is where you’re keeping him?” Shen felt a shiver (completely unrelated to temperature) shudder through him as goosebumps raced up his arms.

“Yes… unfortunately we… had to forego a bed for the time being… in his current state flammables are… not a good idea. We have him sedated, but until more tests can be run we have no way of knowing how long he’ll be safe.”

“I see,” Shen nodded, internal excitement growing with each word the doctor spoke. “He’s been erased from the hospital databases by now, I take it?”

“Of course,” Dr. Vasquez said, the affront clear in his tone. “The surgeons will remember, but Lobdell and Seagle are on my team down here as well. The others will probably forget soon enough… with our usual workload, any memory of this one will blend in among the numerous burn victims we see day to day. Our patient was already out of surgery when the first signs of... _abnormalities_ surfaced, so we were able to isolate him down here quickly without drawing attention.”

“Good.”

“I take it you want to take a look for yourself?” the doctor spoke with a hesitant smile. “You’ll have to remove your coat, of course, and any firearms. We have flame retardant hazmats for your protection as well.”

“Yeah,” Shen grinned, rubbing an anxious hand down the back of his skull. The blunt ends of his buzz-cut tickled through the thick callouses on his fingers. “That sounds like a plan.”


	2. Chapter 1: The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins...

Hiro was the first, though he didn’t realize it at the time. 

A few weeks had passed since the funeral and a grey dirge lingered, persistent even in the face of bright autumn sun (through window blinds mitigated that annoyance). His mind, usually so sharp and quick, jumping from detail to detail as he analysed- coming to the most outlandish (yet ingenious) conclusions- stood maddeningly still for the first time in his life. His eyes kept trailing towards the empty side of their ( _his… it was his now_ ) bedroom. Everything: from the neatly folded bedding to the faint scent of dust settling in, the quiet absence of buzzing electrical appliances behind the open screen partition- kept his thoughts stuck on one, singular detail. _Tadashi is gone._ His brother’s favorite black San Fransokyo Ninjas cap stood in stark contrast against the much lighter bedspread, its solitary placement painfully reminiscent of a memorial. Again, his mind screamed. _Tadashi is gone._

He tried distraction; it didn’t work. A blinking video message notification interrupted his aimless web browsing, filling his monitor with the still, worried faces of his friends ( _Tadashi’s friends_ ) until he clicked play. 

_“Hey Hiro!”_

_“We just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”_

_“Wish you were here, buddy.”_

_“Hiro, if I could have only one superpower right now, it would be the ability to crawl through this camera and give you a big hug.”_

He shut the computer off before it finished. The screen went black as he stood, gaze drifting towards the crisply folded SFIT letter sitting on his desk, Megabot (angry red face on display) propped up just beside it. Friends, letter, Megabot, solitary baseball cap- everything came back to Tadashi and now he was _gone._ Hiro closed his eyes against the burning sting behind his lids.

_“You’re going bot fighting, aren’t you?”_

_“Hey, I’m not giving up on you… shake things up! Look for a new angle!”_

_“Welcome to Nerd School, nerd.”_

_“Someone has to help!”_

_Tadashi is gone!_

A humming sound (like blood rushing through ears, but less... organic) drummed through his head, blocking out all other senses. Sudden intense heat flashed across his skin then, jolting his entire body ( _hot… flashback?_ ) and flinging eyes wide open at the shocking ( _too real… way too real..._ ) sensation. He pitched forward in the immediate wake, hands groping along the desk edge as Hiro caught himself.

Downstairs, the cafe lights flickered. Patrons glanced upwards briefly, curious, while Cass quickly closed the door on the sputtering mini-fridge under the coffee bar. She frowned at her solitary register as it beeped, reboot sequence flashing across the POS screen shortly afterwards.

“Huh? Must of been a power short.” 

Two floors above her in the attic bedroom, Hiro was hyperventilating: fingers wrapped around the wooden desk edge in a white-knuckled grip as pulsing fluorescent shadows danced across his vision. Brow clammy, he blinked the incandescent afterimages away. _I’m in my room… there’s no fire… it already happened… Tadashi is gone._ He cycled through a couple mantra sets before they dissipated, leaving only the pristine SFIT letter and a slumped Megabot in his immediate field of view. _The letter from the showcase._ Hesitantly, he reached a shaky hand out towards the envelope. The circular SFIT logo stamped on front shone slightly as the minimal light of his room hit the glossy ink. 

_“The university called again… they said it’s not too late to register.”_

His aunt’s earlier words echoed in the mental silence. The, _“like Tadashi would have wanted,”_ had gone unsaid then. _Because he died in the fire that night,_ Hiro thought bitterly, squeezing his eyes shut once more. _If I hadn’t tried for a spot at SFIT… if I just stayed away from school, Tadashi would be here to say those things. If it wasn’t for this stupid letter…_

Brown eyes flew open. Mind made up, he tossed the damned letter (and all Tadashi’s hopes for him) into the plastic wastebasket to his left. _Everything was better before. Sure, I was putting myself in danger and fighting with Tadashi all the time… but he was here to fight with._ He picked Megabot up off the desk. _Everything was better before,_ and, while Hiro could never completely go back to that time, he could at least reclaim part of it.

“Ow! Aaah!”

One of the three magnetic bearing servos that made up Megabot’s body disengaged at that moment, landing hard on his bare toes with a metallic clunk. Hiro dropped the rest of the battlebot: hopping one-legged until he fell back against the bed behind him, cradling his throbbing foot as he released a third pained hiss.

Bo… bo… boop!

Another hiss, this one mechanical in nature, came from his brother’s side of the room. Hiro turned his head to see Baymax, fully inflated, standing in front of Tadashi’s cluttered wall-bookshelf. Sunlight filtered through the window above his brother’s old bed, illuminating the bright white vinyl that ballooned around Baymax’s carbon fiber skeleton. Both boy and robot regarded each other for several tense seconds, before a quiet whirl indicated the latter’s intention to move. Hiro watched as Baymax carefully navigated around the tight corner between bed and shelf, vinyl squeaking loudly with every step, its bulk knocking over a number of books as it squeezed by. Finally, Baymax shuffled sideways through the open screen door, coming to a calculated stop next to Hiro. A pudgy white hand, more reminiscent of marshmallow clusters than a human appendage, raised in stiff greeting.

“Hello, I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” 

“Uh, hey… B… Baymax! I didn’t know you were still,” he accentuated his pause with a shrug, “active.” 

Hiro never realized Baymax, indeed, had not been active.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

The second (Though, initially, they considered him the first) was a tall, brown-haired student in Honey Lemon’s lab group.

He manifested shortly after the Portal Incident, on a calm, breezy mid-autumn Thursday. Big Hero 6 was a recognized superteam by then (already named as such by public media); Hiro had found Baymax’s original green chip a week prior, clenched tight between the carbon fingers of a red rocket fist, but had yet to finish the new body. Everyone was on campus that day. Even Fred could be found dancing in front of the half-crowded football bleachers, wearing SFIT’s green lizard mascot costume.

“Please hurry,” Honey Lemon whispered, hitting send on a hasty group message before shoving the pink encased phone (brand new since their dip in the bay ruined her last one) deep down her white coat pocket. She rose from her crouched position to peek over the polished black table she ducked behind earlier, alongside two other students. Now that the team had been notified, her priorities shifted to assessing the situation at hand.

The room was chaos. Broken glass and various colored liquids were splattered across the laminate floor while overturned tables and chairs mapped out a crude blast-radius around one of her classmates. _Ivan,_ Honey regarded the boy with concerned, green eyes. He shared her major ( _“You’re in chemical engineering, too? Awesome! We have all the best_ solutions _, you know!”_ ) and was a familiar, friendly face inside the chemistry department. His tall frame was hunched over now, long spidery fingers slipping through short messy curls to clutch white-knuckled at his skull. The entire lab had gone eerily quiet after his volatile outburst, highlighting the loud labored breaths that shook his body. Nothing else dared move.

_I left my suit in the Ishioka Lab… Hiro has a lecture... Fred’s at a game... Gogo and Wasabi are the only ones done with classes, they’ll show up soon,_ Honey Lemon’s gaze darted between Ivan’s still form and the nearest exit (to her right) as she thought. _I should clear the room before they get here. The fewer civilians endangered the better. Okay, I can do this!_

Plan reached, Honey quickly ducked back down- pushing her large, pink-framed glasses more securely up the bridge of her nose. There were seventeen people, professor included, present earlier. The best course of action was probably to start with the closest (the couple sharing her hiding spot) and move from there. Scooting towards the two, she tapped the nearest shoulder.

“Psst! Mimori.”

Mimori flinched and whirled around. Honey Lemon lurched back in immediate response to avoid a face-slap, courtesy of the other girl’s long dark braid. Mimori clearly didn’t feel confident speaking through the tense atmosphere, but her sheepish grimace managed to convey enough apology in the absence of a verbalized one. The student beside her (a short stout boy named Andrew) also turned, startled, at the sharp movement of his companions. From the other side of their table, they could hear Ivan’s breath hitch and the surrounding air pressure noticeably shifted. Honey’s ears felt close to popping at the sudden change. There was no time to dawdle.

Move, Honey Lemon mouthed with exaggerated jaw movements, hoping to relieve a bit of the pressing sensation behind her eardrums while she was at it. Her hurried gesture towards the nearest cover (an angled, sideways desk) was met by two sets of confused brown eyes. _Really?_ She resisted the urge to sigh, jabbing her pointer finger at the illuminated green exit sign above the lab door and once more towards neighboring debris- slowly mouthing, escape, followed by a soundless repetition of, move.

Dawning comprehension lit Mimori and Andrew’s faces just as the table barricades began to vibrate. Now fueled by panic, the three scampered quickly and stealthily towards the exit (not an easy feat in banana yellow heels, but Honey managed). They slipped behind the nearby desk only to find another classmate already hiding there. _Perfect, I can get them out as a group._ But, before Honey Lemon could reiterate her escape plan, the frenzied energy around them suddenly fell to a still, pin-drop silence.

_Que es… ?_

A concussive boom threw Honey clean off her feet, sending her sliding across waxed linoleum until a tipped metal stool intercepted her trajectory. _Ay! My back!_ She lay there a moment, blinking spots from her fuzzy vision. _Dónde… mis lentes…?_ Sitting up slowly, she groped along the floor- even as it tilted on her, somehow finding her (thankfully still intact) glasses mere feet away. Now that she had 20/20 vision again, Honey Lemon scanned her surroundings in a basic attempt to reorient herself. 

“... urts… it hurts…”

Ivan’s words pierced her concentration before she could location any fellow classmates. He remained in the same position as before, still hyperventilating, only he had moved on from squeezing his skull to yanking frantically on his curls. All the while, he whimpered.

“It hurts… stop… just… stop...”

The air thrummed once more. Frozen stiff in morbid fascination, Honey watched Ivan work himself up. A rapid tinkling drew her gaze to a cluster of broken beaker fragments on the floor in front of her, seemingly vibrating along with the intensity of Ivan’s breakdown.

“STOP!”

Several shards flew forward then, one skimming Honey Lemon’s cheek on it’s way to embed in the wall behind her with a horrifying thunk. She ignored the wet, stinging sensation under her left eye: observing as Ivan sunk into himself for a moment, the trembling objects around him stilling amidst the brief calm. _Whatever this is, it’s reacting to his mood..._

“Hurts…”

“It’s okay, Ivan!” Honey shouted, switching tactics in light of new information. _If I can just calm him down,_ “everything will be okay, Ivan.”

He unfurled himself a bit at her unexpected intervention, meeting another person’s eyes for the first time since his episode started. They were bloodshot and dilated: hollow black almost completely overtaking their usual bright blue. His completion practically mirrored used lumpy paste. Clearly, these telekinetic abilities (or so she figured, based on what she gleaned from Fred’s numerous comic book ramblings) were wreaking havoc on Ivan’s body.

“I… I want it t… to stop,” he stuttered, finally managing a complete sentence.

“I know, I know! It will,” Honey assured him, cautiously inching forwards on her knees. Movement in her peripheral alerted her to a student making a dash for the exit. _Good, they’re using me as a distraction,_ she thought, but didn’t dare interrupt her connection with Ivan to see who had. “The pain will go away, I promise... but you need to relax first. Just keep your eyes on me and breath. Breath with me, Ivan. In, out, in, out...”

“O… okay.”

He didn’t break eye contact, taking in sloppy gulps of air to match her purposefully exaggerated breathing. The looming crackle of tension slackened as seconds ticked on: vibrating equipment and debris gradually stilling with each measured intake. _It’s working! This is good… very good,_ Honey Lemon couldn’t help smiling then. _Ivan’s calming down, people are getting out... the way things are going, I probably won’t need the back-up after all._

Just her luck, Gogo and Wasabi crashed dramatically through the door at that exact moment.

_¡Madre de Dios!_

“S… stay back!” Ivan cried, scuttling backwards as their tenuous connection shattered. Prickling goosebumps raced up Honey’s arms, followed by vertigo as the ground dropped out from beneath her. She barely had time to think, _not again,_ when the boom hit her eardrums.

She was mid-air, flying, when a pair of lean muscular arms encircled her: shielding her body from the sudden resistance that sent her long blonde hair whipping back. The movement stopped quickly as it started, and Honey Lemon didn’t even notice the lack of new pains alongside her previous injuries- brain stuck on the familiar embrace she found herself in. The tough slender arms, the small firm breastplate pressed against her upper back- 

“Gotcha.”

Looking up, she saw her wide green eyes reflected by a dark purple tinted visor (a new feature the team unanimously agreed upon after deciding to continue the hero gig- hers was orange). As intended, Honey Lemon couldn’t really discern the other’s facial features through it, but the streamline yellow helmet and gruff voice were all the hints she needed.

“So, what’s the deal here?” Gogo asked, supporting Honey as she staggered back to her feet. Wasabi stood in front of them, blue arm blades extended and humming. Any projectiles heading their way were sliced out of the air with single-minded efficiency. 

“Ivan… I mean, Ivan Vasilek… he’s one of my classmates,” Honey Lemon backtracked hastily. Her teammates (with the exception of Hiro) knew Ivan well enough, though openly acknowledging that fact was hardly conducive to their new alter-ego lifestyle. “I was working on my own project so I didn’t see exactly what happened at first... but he kind of blew the room apart twice… no, three times with his mind.”

“With his mind? Are you serious?!” Wasabi glanced over his armor-clad shoulder to give her what was, she assumed, a skeptical glance. The effect was somewhat lost by the metallic blue visor hiding his eyes.

“That’s what it looks like! He says his head hurts, gets upset, and we fly everywhere! I was trying to calm him down just before you guys got here… it seemed to be helping, the intensity of those vibrations were lessening at least...”

“Sorry,” Gogo said. Wasabi winced with a sheepish grin, before an incoming office chair drew his attention back to the matter at hand.

“We’ll take it from here. But first, I need to get you and the other kids out…”

“No,” Honey interrupted Gogo’s orders. “Let me handle my classmates, I was before you got here! Go ahead and help Wa… ah, your friend. Don’t worry about us.”

The armored hero seemed reluctant: her gloved hand moving as if to reach up, but, with a flinch, she retracted the telling action.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, go on.”

Gogo nodded curtly; she slid an extra yellow disc onto her gauntlet and smoothly rolled to Wasabi’s side. Honey felt her stomach flip oddly in the wake of their exchange. Unfortunately, she had no time to stop for self-examination just then. _Alright! Suited or not, I’m still a member of this team and I’ve got a job to do._

“Ha! Is that all you’ve got?!” Wasabi goaded, playing the distraction while Gogo skated into goalie position behind Ivan. They didn’t know where every student had hidden- so, Honey guessed, the two heroes probably figured maximizing coverage was the best plan.

Meanwhile, the unsuited hero dashed towards the nearest overturned table, only to find the space empty. Cursing her awful streak of luck, Honey Lemon surveyed the immediate area: catching sight of Mimori alone, huddled against the wall. A red splotch (one that would surely become a nasty bruise) marred nearly the entire right side of her jaw, even so, Honey was more concerned by the way she had curled and cradled her right leg flush to her torso.

“Mimori,” she whispered, darting over to kneel in front of her visibly distressed classmate. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here. Can you walk?”

The other girl shook her head, droplets scattered along her lashes as she held back tears.

”My ankle… I think it’s broken. Andrew got out earlier with Liu… said they would get help.” 

Honey wrapped a comforting arm around Mimori’s shoulders, “it’ll be alright. You’ll see, we’ll think of some… thing...” her words trailed off as another student vaulted over the table and landed in a clumsy crouch directly in front of them. She recognized the distinctive lab coat, customized with numerous colorful patches, instantly. “Markus,” she hissed, waving him over. “Mimori hurt her ankle. Can you help me get her outside?”

“Sure.”

Propping Mimori up between them, Honey and Markus reached the open door in surprisingly short order. Once through, she watched Markus lift the girl into a gentle bridal carry before rushing back inside. _Four out, that I know of… and a potential thirteen more to go. Okay, that’s a start._

She returned just in time to witness Gogo football tackling Ivan, her forceful momentum carrying them both through a broken window pane to the grassy commons below.

“Well… at least we’re on the bottom floor,” Honey noted as Wasabi leapt after them, swinging his blades in a wide arch to clear space for his much bulkier frame. She stood for a moment, taking in the disaster of a classroom: broken glass strewn across the floor and sticking out of walls, overturned tables and twisted chairs. The digital clock above the door flashed erratically, screen cracked and stuck on the same numbers it displayed during Ivan’s first episode. Absently, she dug through her coat pocket to check her phone. _Twenty-three minutes._ So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Several heads popped up from various hiding spots while she decompressed, emerging now that the coast was clear.

_Wait... the room is safe now._ Honey Lemon felt her gut clench as the changed situation finally registered. _It isn’t over yet, the danger just moved!_ She bolted for the door, heels clacking as stealth dropped from a necessity to non-priority. Grabbing the door jamb to brace her sharp pivot, Honey flung herself into the main hallway.

“Don’t go outside!” she shouted, racing down the hall. “¡Permanecer en el interior! They moved out! The building’s clear! Stay inside!”

Honey breezed past a shell shocked Markus (still holding Mimori) on her way to the building exit. When the door was in sight, she grabbed a random student peeking curiously outside his classroom- an underclassman she didn’t recognize.

“Warn everyone… go classroom to classroom make sure they know to stay inside! Blockade exits if you have to! It’s dangerous outside right now!”

“O… okay… what’s going on?”

“No time,” Honey said between panicked breaths. “This is super important! Just make sure everyone stays safe… got it?”

“Sure… got it.”

She released him, sprinting the final distance to the heavy double-doors that led outside.

“Hey! What about y…”

The door slammed shut on the underclassman’s concerned shout; Honey Lemon didn’t look back. _I need to help them… however I can._ She rounded the chemistry building, following a mental map towards the area her classroom windows faced-

And came across a completely different scene than she anticipated. The fighting was (apparently) over, and two non-descript black vans were parked on the grassy commons, alongside an ambulance. Paramedics had an unconscious Ivan strapped on a gurney: one monitoring his blood pressure, another securing his restraints, while a third checked his pupils with a penlight. _How did this happen?_

“Sorry, miss, you can’t be here.”

Honey spun towards the voice, finally noticing the redheaded woman standing off to the side with Gogo and Wasabi. She had a stern expression and no-nonsense posture, further accentuated by the crisp lines of her fitted navy pantsuit.

“It’s alright, Agent Morris, this is one of his classmates. She was in the room when it happened,” Wasabi vouched.

“I see,” Morris’ entire demeanor changed then. She approached Honey with a smile, missing how Gogo viciously elbowed Wasabi’s stomach behind her back. “Hi, my name is Judy Morris. I work with a special branch of the government.”

“Everyone calls me Honey Lemon… the government you said?”

“Yes. I know today must have come as quite a shock to you,” she responded, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a cartoon anvil. “If you need any help, someone to talk to, please give us a call.”

Honey blinked as a white card was shoved into her hands. Judy Morris’ name was printed above a single phone number in stark black Times New Roman; nothing else. She flipped the card over to find the other side blank. _Bit odd for a business card._

“What about Ivan? Will he be okay?” she asked.

“We’ll take care of him, I’m sure he’ll be grateful to hear how worried you are for him,” Agent Morris assured, her smile plastic. “Just keep an eye out, and remember, we’re here for you if you need us… just give us a call.”

Honey stared helplessly as Ivan was loaded into the ambulance and driven off. Suited agents piled into their own vehicles to follow. After they departed, the only signs left were muddy brown tire tracks and the occasional glint of sun off glass shards between blades of glass.

“Sorry about that,” Wasabi apologized. “I didn’t think she would target you like that.”

“Right, you didn’t think!” Gogo hissed. “Now you’ve associated her civilian identity with this!”

“No, it’s fine… really! Better than being run off, anyway. I made sure not to give her my real name.”

“Still,” he sighed. “At least let me run that number she handed you through some databases… see if we can get an idea of who and what they are.”

“Sure.”

Wasabi pried the card from her loose fingers and headed towards the Ishioka building, leaving the girls alone on the field. Honey couldn’t quite suppress the slight blush that rose when she realized. 

“Hey,” Gogo rolled closer. “How’re you holding up?”

“Oh, I’m fine! Just fine! Wondering how my life became a science fiction story all of the sudden, but I guess after superheroes, portals, and everything else- you could actually say that’s been all of our lives for the past few weeks…”

“You’re bleeding,” Gogo pointed out.

“Ah,” Honey swiped at the throbbing cut on her cheek, holding her fingers out to see the tips smeared with red blood. “It doesn’t really hurt much… it’s probably just a shallow cut.”

“I don’t care, you’re bleeding,” and though the frown on her face wasn’t visible through the face shield, Honey could definitely hear it. “First aid, now.”

“Alright, alright… si!” Honey Lemon shrieked in surprise as the much shorter woman frog marched her to the nearest kit, proving her height wasn’t much of an advantage at all.


	3. Chapter 2: Second, Third, and Fourth

They encountered the third one as a team, while on patrol.

Hiro flew high above San Fransokyo’s streets for the first time on a now fully-functional Baymax. Below him, the others ran, jumped, or rolled between buildings: revelling in being a complete team once more. The city lights were a dizzy neon blur around him: reflecting as colorful streaks off the new red-tinted visor added to his purple helmet.

“Hey Hiro!” Gogo’s voice came out clearly through the earpiece installed in his helmet. “You’re lagging back there. Need the rest of us to slow down for you?” 

“Are you kidding! I’m just warming up!” he shot back, sporting a cocky grin behind his face shield. “Come on, buddy, let’s give them a show!”

“Increasing output to thrusters, hold on,” Baymax warned in his gentle, comforting monotone. The mechanism revved up with a high-pitched whine, and Hiro’s stomach dropped as speed drew the world further into abstract. Wind filtered in through the air vents around his face- not so strong the sting hit his eyes, but enough to feel the rush ghost across his cheeks.

“Show off,” Gogo huffed. He glanced downwards to see her keeping pace with him at street level, the bright yellow of her armor a stark contrast against black asphalt.

“Is that a challenge?” he taunted.

“Wouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

“Ooh, burn,” Fred sniggered, reminding the two that they were on a shared channel.

“Come on, guys. The city is not your personal racetrack,” Wasabi gave his two-cents. “Can we at least pretend to be responsible here.”

“Gotcha, Wasabi my man! After all, with great power comes…”

“I swear Fred, if I hear that quote come out of your mouth one more time…”

Hiro laughed at the team’s antics. He had missed this, while he sat on the sidelines re-building his partner; the playful banter, the camaraderie-

“Hiro,” Baymax interrupted his happy musings. “My new scanner is picking up a tripped security alarm at a small store closed for business nearby.”

“How far?” he asked. The sudden radio silence from his teammates did not unnoticed.

“A left at the next intersection, then four blocks west.”

“Well guys, you heard him,” Hiro said.

“Yeah! It’s go time!” Fred crowed, bounding from rooftop to rooftop until he was even with Hiro and Gogo. Within minutes, the three had reached their destination: a classy little jewelry boutique, complete with scalloped green awning and kanji stenciled in flowing gold calligraphy across the window. Hiro disengaged from Baymax as they landed. Honey Lemon and Wasabi weren’t far behind.

“Whoa… looks like our criminal adversary’s packing some serious explosives,” Fred said with an impressive whistle. And, at an initial glance, he certainly seemed to be stating the obvious. The storefront (with its empty display) had been left intact, but the old-fashioned brick wall facing the neighboring alley was a different story. Crumbling red debris littered the pavement around a hole easily eight feet tall and just as wide. The apparent force from the blast was so powerful, stray pieces of brick had fallen past the sidewalk onto cars parked along the curb. 

“I don’t know,” Gogo hummed after several seconds consideration. “There’s no smoke.”

“Or smell,” Honey piped up. “Doesn’t matter what type of incendiary you use, they all have distinct scents… but I’m only getting dust.”

“What else could it be?”

“My sensors have picked up a single lifeform approaching.”

The entire group quieted. Fluidly, they each moved into their prefered battle stances. A hulking figure (both tall and broad) stepped through the hole then, wearing the stereotypical black ski mask, black clothing, and matching gloves. The only deviation from their ‘burglary 101’ outfit was a sleeveless shirt that exposed thick, bulging veined biceps to the world.

“Those are some im-pre-ssive muscles,” Fred noted.

“Fight now, admire later,” Gogo snapped.

The burglar stiffened as he spotted them, hefting a large utility backpack over his shoulders before confronting the colorful superheroes suddenly in his path.

“Wha’dya want?!” he demanded in a rough, gravelly baritone.

“Well, for starters,” Hiro began. “How about explaining the massive property damage here? Also, I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever’s in the backpack doesn’t belong to you.”

“What’s it to you?” the burglar snarled. “You own the place or something?”

“ ‘Cause if anyone looks like respectable business owners right now, it’s us,” Gogo snarked.

“Listen up, evildoer!” Fred called out, projecting his voice admirably through the blue monster mask. “We can either do this the easy way... or the hard way…”

“They always pick the hard way. What’s even the point of asking that question?” Wasabi wondered aloud.

“According to my scanner, a police unit is currently en route,” Baymax informed them. “Calculated arrival time is: nine minutes, three-point-four seconds.”

The burglar’s entire posture changed upon hearing that news. Flight took priority over fight as he spun one-eighty and bolted down the alleyway.

“Honey!” Hiro shouted.

“On it,” slender fingers were already flying across the keypad of her chemical purse. A whirl, followed by a series of hisses, echoed through the night air- and a bright orange ball popped out of the side chute into Honey Lemon’s waiting hand. Not missing a beat, she threw the object at their opponent with pin-point accuracy. It exploded at his feet with a wet whoosh, neon goo bubbling and expanding rapidly until it engulfed his legs up to mid-calf. The sudden loss of momentum tipped his balance, and he flung gloved hands forward to catch himself. A gross squelch sounded as they met the same sticky substance on the ground that encased his feet.

“Nice one, Honey Lemon!” Fred whooped.

“Thanks.”

“Arrgh!”

Everyone’s attention turned to the burglar at his frustrated cry. The man had ripped his hands free of the trapped gloves and teetered upright, swaying precariously. He twisted in place to glare at them, hazel eyes furrowed behind his ski mask, before lifting his right leg with a strained grunt. The orange goo stretched like taffy as he moved.

“He shouldn’t be able to… how… ?” Honey gasped.

“I detect an abnormal bio-electric current along the obturator and sciatic nerves,” Baymax said. “His hip and thigh adductors exhibit dangerously high amounts of stress as well. Suggestion: halt current activity. Rest and an increased calorie intake, preferably high in protein, are recommended for recovery.”

“Yeah don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Hiro muttered. The burglar’s right foot pulled free with a loud snap. Bracing three limbs on now-drying surface, he used the extra leverage to propel himself further. 

“We need to knock him out. Baymax, Rocket Fist!”

The robot raised a clenched red fist, turbines revving up with a high-pitched whine. The burglar, having just reached clear pavement, turned back at the low boom as it flew forward. Eyes widened, arm muscles flexed, and veins popped in response. He ducked, but Gogo (their second barrage) was already zooming forward: throw-disk raised.

“Huwah!”

He slammed both fist against the ground, and the road exploded. Asphalt broke apart from the force, buckling upward in uneven chunks while smaller pieces sailed through the air. Gogo spun out to avoid a worse crash, landing with more weight on her shoulder than she intended. Dirt, both grey and brown, billowed outwards in a crude wave as the team stood frozen; gobsmacked. 

“He just… with his bare hands... did you guys just see that?!” Wasabi exclaimed.

“I did!”

“That was rhetorical, Fred!”

“Well, that explains the hole in the wall,” Honey supplied not-so-helpfully.

“You have suffered a blunt trauma injury to your right shoulder,” Baymax stated, approaching Gogo with his shuffling gait.

“Ya think?” she groaned, favoring said shoulder and ignoring Baymax’s arm as she picked herself up off the ground.

“Moving is not recommended until the injured appendage has been…” 

“Like we have time for that!”

Gogo’s outburst, alongside the rapid tap-tap of running footsteps ahead, reminded Hiro of the mission at hand. The stakes had just shot through the ceiling; they needed to stop this super-strong criminal, _now._

“Fred,” he ordered. “Jump on the roof and follow him from above- keep him on his toes. Honey, can you make anything stronger to trap him?”

“Probably.”

“Good, do that. Gogo, I hate to ask this, but do you think you can carry Honey Lemon and circle around in front of him?”

“Sure, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Honey immediately protested. “I’m sure Hiro can think of another way…”

“And I’m telling you I got this,” Gogo spat, hoisting a now-flustered teammate over her good shoulder and speeding away before another objection could be raised.

“Okay,” Hiro took a deep breath, _that’s three in formation._ “Baymax we’re taking to the air. Wasabi, you’re with us.”

“Of course I am,” he sighed, running fingers nervously through his dreadlocks. “What’s the plan exactly?”

“We need to knock the guy out before he uses that superpower punch again… or whatever it is,” Hiro said, climbing on Baymax’s back as he spoke. “If Honey, Gogo, and Fred can distract him long enough, we might be able to get a hit in. Everybody got that?”

Three separate affirmatives echoed through his earpiece.

“Alright,” Hiro nodded and turned to Wasabi, still standing off to the side awkwardly. “You ready?”

“For speeding through the air at dangerous heights with no safety precautions? Never,” he answered, stepping forward.

Thankfully, super strength didn’t translate to super speed. Baymax (Wasabi clinging desperately to his outstretched arms) soon caught up to their adversary. Hiro processed the sight below them: Gogo had already cut the man off with Honey Lemon in tow, the latter releasing a yellow ball while Fred occupied him with a wild stream of fire overhead.

“Heads up!”

Between the flaming threat and Fred’s shout from above, the burglar didn’t notice Honey’s action until the ball splattered into a puddle of sticky yellow gunk at his feet, wider than the last.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” he growled, switching his attention to her just in time to see a purple ball shoot out of her purse into waiting hands. Honey spun around and tossed the new chemical ball further down the alley, where it burst into violet-blue form that grew fast and hardened to an icy finish. His route effectively walled off, the man turned around just as Baymax descended. Wasabi activated his electro-magnetic blades the moment he touched ground. The air around them hummed as hazel eyes darted back and forth, increasingly desperate.

“Hiro,” Baymax suddenly spoke up. “My sensors…”

“Not now,” he muttered through grit teeth.

_Pa-pa-Pop! Pop!_

Something whizzed past Wasabi’s left ear then, earning a startled yelp from the hero. Several more flew by Hiro in tandem, and he instinctively crouched lower against Baymax for protection.

“N... not... like this,” The man whispered. Hiro stretched to peek over Baymax’s massive shoulder, his focus immediately zooming in on the three small silver darts protruding from their opponent’s exposed bicep.

_Those didn’t come from any of us._

Whatever drug the burglar had been hit with worked fast: his muscles spasmed uncontrollably, spine already slumping. Within seconds, his knees hit the ground with a wet plop. Eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness.

“Who are you?!”

Hiro ripped his gaze from their fallen adversary at Wasabi’s vehement demand. A sleek black van with tinted windows had pulled up behind them, sliding door open to reveal an empty gurney and two suited man inside. Three uniformed individuals wearing filter masks kneeled on the ground directly in front, dart guns still raised. 

“My sensors had picked up nine lifeforms approaching us from behind at high speeds,” Baymax explained as a flashing cop car pulled in next the van. _The alley’s completely blocked off on both ends now,_ Hiro realized.

“Thanks for holding him up for us,” a man, previously out of sight, climbed out from the van’s passenger side. He looked unremarkably average, a military buzz cut and long grey trench coat being his most distinguishing features. “But we’ll take it from here.”

“And who are you guys?” Hiro asked suspiciously.

“I could ask you six the same,” he responded with raised eyebrow. “But, I figure you’d tell me it’s hardly any of my business… so I’ll say the same to you. Either way, we’re the ones actually authorized to handle this situation, unless you’d like argue the point with them,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the parked police car. The cuff of his coat rode up as he gestured, showing off a green dragon tail tattooed on his forearm.

“Am I the only one getting creepy government cover-up vibes from this?” Wasabi muttered into his mic so only the team could hear.

“Nope,” Gogo and Honey Lemon hissed simultaneously.

“Definitely sketch,” Fred concurred.

“The police are here, what else can we do?” Hiro whispered before speaking in a louder tone. “Alright then Mr. Secret Agent, we’ll leave things to the _proper_ authorities. Baymax, fire thrusters!”

The robot in question lifted off, Wasabi running to grab an extended arm before they were out of reach. Honey had produced a pink ball from her purse and threw it towards the hard, glittering wall she created earlier. Upon impact, a bubbling lavender liquid spread outwards: eating away the icy substance and clearing the alleyway. Gogo hoisted the girl in her arms (though not without a protest of, “your shoulder!”) before speeding away. Fred followed the group from the rooftops.

“That van looked like the ones with the ambulance when they took Ivan,” Honey’s worried voice said over their earpieces.

“I noticed that, too,” Gogo pipped up.

“It’s definitely something to keep an eye on,” Hiro sighed. “But there’s nothing we can do now. Whatever else is going on, that guy was still committing a crime and it’s not like we’re actually part of the police force.”

“True,” Wasabi said. “But I still don’t feel right about… whatever this is.”

“Me and you both.”

As the Big Hero 6 disappeared into the night, Shen spat at their retreating backs.

“Cheeky brat.” 

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

The next day, a drama student from SFU destroyed a convenience store aisle. News networks streamed the sensational security cam footage all afternoon, cutting off after a couple police officers showed up to lead the seemingly disoriented twenty-some man away- 

Xi’an had mentally shut down by the time both officers reached him. He didn’t struggle as they guided him cautiously through a backdoor emergency exit, opening onto the alley loading dock behind the store. The line of sleek black vans parked outside barely registered through his confusion.

He didn’t understand; Xi’an had just woken up that morning feeling feverish and sore, shivering in bed as throbbing pain shot up and down his arms. Missing school was a clear given. However, much as he desired to curl up in bed for eternity and just _die,_ the medicine cabinet proved to be inadequately stocked when he finally crawled out. Seeing as it was eleven a.m. (and both his roommates were already gone for the day), Xi’an resigned himself to a quick store-run. He pulled a red university hoodie over his sweat-damp undershirt and slipped on his roommate’s flip-flops before stepping outside. Normally, the fashion-conscious theater major wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this slacker get-up in public, his loose grey sleep pants completing the disheveled look- but he felt too sick to care.

Sadly, his horrible morning would only get worse.

He was standing in the cold and flu aisle, deliberating through a pounding headache on which brand to buy, when an intense flash of heat suddenly raced down his left arm. Xi’an gasped, fingers spasming around the plastic bottle still in his hand. He watched in wide-eyed horror as an eerie purple glow emanated from his skin and the entire bottle, along with its contents, disintegrated into thin air. Nothing was left behind, not even dust.

A tidal wave of consuming fear smashed through the shock soon enough and Xi’an staggered backwards, crashing into the shelves behind him. Another flash of heat, less intense than the first, warned him just before the fixture (and any product that hadn’t fallen to floor) evaporated away. Someone screamed nearby, but he didn’t run. Xi’an stood there: transfixed by the damage he had done. _What just happened here? I just… what happened to me?!_ His thoughts were all a jumbled mess of disassociation, head pain, and barely restrained hysteria- 

“... e safe. Restrain him.”

Xi’an’s grasp on reality returned with acute clarity at those words. They were spoken by a man in a long grey trench coat, walking briskly towards them. He pulled a pair of sporty wrap-around sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on, the tail of what appeared to be a green dragon tattoo visible on his arm as the coat cuff rode up. Behind him, the suspicious line of vans idled.

Xi’an felt sharp cold metal against his left wrist before he heard the click of handcuffs locking.

“Hey! What the… what are you doing?!”

“It’s just a precaution,” Shen answered, no sympathy or comfort in his tone. “Don’t take it personally, kid. We’ll take care of you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Xi’an snorted, feeling the now familiar heat rise again. The officer to his left cried out as the handcuffs disintegrated in a wash of purple light. Xi’an didn’t waste a precious second this time; he spun around, ducked under an oncoming tackle, and made a mad dash for the street. _The sidewalk… if I can just get to a crowd,_ he thought. 

“Idiots!”

A gunshot, followed by an explosive pain across the back of his thigh, sent Xi’an tumbling to the ground. _What the… they… they actually shot… ?_ Shaken, he reached a fumbling hand to check, but felt no blood. _Rubber bullets?_

“No wonder the police force here is useless,” Shen snarled, his voice and the clack-clack of dress heels on asphalt indicating his fast approach. Xi’an moved to rise, but he was stumbling; too slow. A heavy weight and bony knee against his spine subdued him once more.

“Shouldn’t have run, kid.”

A sharp prick on the side of his neck was the last thing Xi’an felt before the edges of the world went fuzzy.

Later, after each member of Big Hero 6 had seen the incomplete news coverage, they met up at the Lucky Cat Cafe.

“It’s weird… that’s the third one in less than two weeks,” Hiro said, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing Aunt Cass’s attention to their corner table.

“Too much for coincidence,” Gogo agreed. She downed her double-shot espresso afterward like a pro.

“That’s how it works guys,” Fred began with his usual comic book sage authority. “Whenever a superhero team shows up, super villains come out of the woodwork to challenge them. It’s a change in dynamics! The next phase of our origin story!”

“Keep it down, Fred!” Hiro hushed, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Aunt Cass was still busy at the coffee bar. “Look whatever’s going on… it’s big. I don’t know reasons or cause yet, but everything about it makes me feel… on edge. Something’s not right here.”

“Well, look on the bright side, at least those creepy ‘we’re-the-government’ agents weren’t around this time,” Wasabi said.

“That we know of.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Even so, as all five human teammates exchanged troubled glances, they recognized how ill-equipped they were to do anything in that moment.

xxxxxx

The insistent bizzt-bizzt of his phone vibrating against wooden desktop woke Hiro up that night. He groaned, rolling over to reach the desk corner near his bed. Object in hand, he blinked at the sudden bright light from his screen and made another noise of protest when adjusted eyes were finally able to make out the caller’s I.D. He briefly considered letting the call go to voicemail (out of simple spite) before swiping to answer.

“What is it, Fred?”

“Little dude! So glad you answered!” Fred said, chipper and alert in a way Hiro found absolutely grating at that moment. “Get a load of this! See, I was on a late night donut run…”

“Donut run?” Hiro interrupted. “Fred… it’s,” he pulled the phone away from his cheek to check the time, “two-thirty in the morning. I was sleeping.”

“I know, sorry… but! This is hero stuff! I hate to drag you out of bed… but you and Baymax need to get down here.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Hiro flipped his comforter off and sat up straight, fully awake now. “What’s going on exactly?”

“Well, I like I told you, I was out getting donuts…”

“Get to the point!”

“Getting there… anyway, on the way home I saw three of those creepy black secret service vans drive past in a row and I told Heathcliff to follow them in our car cause I figured they were up to something… and I was totally right! Another one popped up.”

“Already?!” Hiro scrambled out of bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the floor harder than he anticipated. _Good thing Aunt Cass’ a heavy sleeper._ “That’s two in less than twenty-four hours!”

“Yeah, it’s getting deeper man… whoa!” Fred whistled as an odd whoosh reverberated from his end. “Looks like they’re gonna have a hard time getting close to her, I’d still get here ASAP though… the air’s kinda shimmering around her now… could be some kinda energy barrier... or a force field!”

“Okay, contact the others and keep an eye on the situation,” Hiro ordered, shrugging on his favorite blue hoodie. “You got your suit on you?”

“Never travel without it, bro.” 

“Good. Text me your location and suit up. Ow,” he ended the call and turned around to watch Baymax re-inflate from his charger by the stairs.

“I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. Hello, Hiro.”

“Hey Baymax,” the boy grinned. “We’ve got hero work to do.”

Their trip to the garage was rather uneventful, save some strategic tip-toeing past a snoring Aunt Cass: sprawled on the living room couch with Mochi. The blank T.V. screen in front of her glowed a soft neutral blue. Under normal circumstances, Hiro would have taken the quilted throw folded over the couch arm and covered her ( _it’s what Tadashi would’ve done_ ), but he had no time to waste. _When I get back_ , he promised himself, knowing he didn’t have long before she woke. His earlybird aunt always greeted the new day at five on the dot, getting a headstart on baking treats for the pastry case in her cafe. _Two hours… maybe. That’s all I’ve got to do this._

The address Fred sent him was close, little more than a five minute flight on Baymax- six, if one wanted to be technical about it. They eased their speed a couple blocks away to avoid alerting the police/government, _or, whoever these people are claiming to be now,_ Hiro mentally scoffed. Looking down, he spotted a silver-grey car parked on the next corner, and immediately recognized the top-heavy monster silhouette standing beside the driver-side door. Gogo leaned against a nearby wall in shadow, though her yellow armor slightly ruined the effect; unsurprisingly, she was the first to meet Fred at the scene.

“Hey, guys. What’s the situation?” Hiro spoke through the team’s shared channel.

“Hey, Hiro’s here to save the day! Well, not much has changed,” Fred said, switching effortlessly between levity and seriousness. “Still a stalemate out there... my bet’s definitely on force field powers, for sure.”

“At least those shouldn’t cause too much collateral damage,” Hiro muttered. “Alright, I’m going to get an aerial from the roof. Tell me when the others get here and keep me posted on anything you see from your vantagepoint.”

“Will do,” they both chorused.

Baymax landed smoothly on the corner building’s roof, the light crunch of gravel as Hiro disembarked the loudest sound they made. Creeping slowly, he peeked over the low parapet wall to take in the scene below for himself.

Three black vans and one lone police car were idling in semi-circle formation around a hunched woman, trying her damndest to sink through the pale cinder block wall at her back. Her body was swaddled in a long, baggy green coat and her head was bowed, shoulder-length brown hair falling forward to obscure her face. Dotting the makeshift car perimeter, were at least a dozen officials dressed in various degrees of business casual suits. Hiro counted seven visible firearms.

“Calm down, we just want to help, miss,” a redheaded woman in a dark pantsuit stepped forward from the line. _Huh, looks match the description Honey, Gogo, and Wasabi gave us of that Agent Morris person,_ Hiro noted. “We can help you.”

“Just go away! Leave me alone!” the frightened woman cried, her voice vaguely familiar. A low-end reverb shook the earth and air warped in pulsing curves around her. Agent Morris fell back as spiderweb cracks snaked across the pavement towards her.

“Can’t you see you’re a danger?!” the agent tried again. “If this is what your abilities do to the street, imagine what they’ll do to innocent people just walking by, or your loved ones!”

The woman gasped then, chin snapping up to stare wide-eyed at Morris.

“We can help you control them. Just let us help you...” 

Hiro wasn’t paying attention to the agent anymore, though. His entire focus was fixed, zeroed in, on the terrified woman’s face. He recognized her now. Even shiny with tears, blotchy red, and distorted by altered space- he recognized that face. 

_“I’m okay… but Professor Callahan’s still inside!”_

“Hiro, your neurotransmitter levels,” Baymax continued to relay his diagnosis, but Hiro didn’t (couldn’t) register the words. The only thought rattling around in his head, like a dead hamster in a spinning wheel, was, _it’s her… it’s her… it’s her..._

The woman from the showcase fire.

“Hiro!”

He suddenly found himself pitching forward, a white knuckle grip on the concrete parapet the only thing saving him from a nasty fall. The world narrowed, tunneling on the sight and reality of, _it’s her._ He stood there a moment, trying to catch his panicked breath, when a loud crunch behind him signaled Fred’s unwelcome arrival up top.

“Little dude?”

“I’m fine, get back down and cover the ground,” Hiro ordered sharply. His entire body felt flushed- hot.

“But, Baymax just said…”

“I don’t care what he said! I need cover down there now! Baymax!”

“Hiro, in your condition…”

“Forget that!” he demanded. “Down, now!”

“Hiro! Fred, what’s going on up there?!” Gogo’s voice snapped through their earpieces.

But the robot had already begun his descent with Hiro in tow. They touched down behind the taskforce and Hiro dropped to the ground, knees wobbling just before they gave out.

“Hey!” Agent Morris shouted. The others had turned their attention to him as well, though they kept their guns trained on the former threat. “You don’t belong here. This is a classified matter.”

He didn’t care what the agents said or did, Hiro only had eyes for the woman sobbing beyond them. A logic seared deep in his being told him it wasn’t her fault- that she had been coughing from smoke inhalation and emotional. She couldn’t have known how Tadashi would react to her words. Even so, the pain of mourning for weeks, attending his funeral, of _watching_ Tadashi disappear into the burning building overwhelmed reason. He could feel the fire, burning against his skin right there. He braced himself, hands palm down and flat against the street as he focused only on her splotchy, tear-streaked face.

_Hot… it’s so hot… I don’t want to remember this! STOP!_

Suddenly, the heat radiating from his skin concentrated, exploding beneath his fingertips. Bolts of white-hot lightning shot in the straight line across asphalt- past startled agents and a livid Morris, piercing the shimmering barrier with ease before striking the showcase woman dead on. She screamed, body convulsing herky-jerky as electricity coursed through her. Neon fluorescent afterimages followed her like a ghost across Hiro’s vision, even after she fell unconscious to the ground. The lightning stopped then, and a teeth-clacking cold hit Hiro in its wake. He shuddered.

_I just… how did I… ?_

A stampede of footsteps indicated his team approaching from behind. Judging by the number when they halted beside him, Honey Lemon and Wasabi had joined them while he was indisposed.

“What was that?!”

For the first time since he left the roof, Hiro turned his attention to Agent Morris. Her red hair was a frazzled halo of disarray, her face pale and lips pressed thin to a colorless state. Yet, even through debilitating shock, he saw past the harried facade to her calculated stare. In his peripheral, several agents had moved to load the woman onto a collapsible gurney, immediately strapping her down with numerous restraints. It suddenly dawned on Hiro exactly how much danger he was in. 

“My gauntlets,” he said, voice echoing hollow within the confines of his helmet. “They’re electroshock weapons. New feature.”

“Good to know,” she nodded, accepting the lie. “And smart of you, but, while we appreciate your… vigilante enthusiasm, I have to warn you to stay out of our business. This is our job and we know how to do it. Stick to helping the police stop robbers and runaway cable cars.”

He nodded mutely, watching with numb detachment as Agent Morris walked away. A slender hand pressed gently on his armored shoulder once she was out of earshot; Hiro turned to face the pink helmet and orange-tinted visor of Honey Lemon. He couldn’t be more grateful for the face-obscuring feature right then. 

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly. “Fred and Gogo said you freaked out a bit before we got here… and Baymax...”

“Yeah,” he whispered. In that instant, everything (the woman, the memories, shady government agents, lightning, and _fear_ ) registered simultaneously. He stumbled to his feet. “I… I need to go… now. We’ll talk later. Baymax?”

His team was clearly concerned as he climbed on Baymax, bombarding him with multiple variations of, “fly safe” and, “call me when you get home”s. Had he not been busy disassociating just to function, Hiro probably would have found their reaction touching. But, at that moment, the only thought in his mind was escape.

“Hold on.”

And they blasted off. Hiro finally felt like he could breath- chill pre-dawn air filtered through the vents around his visor, brushing his cheeks as they flew through the dark, quiet city. Now out of immediate danger, tremors wracked his small body. 

“Hiro,” Baymax said, thankfully switching to a private channel. “You did not install electroshock weapons in your gauntlets.”

“I know, buddy,” he answered thickly, letting the frightened tears fall behind his red face shield. “I know.”


	4. Chapter 3: Game Changer

They touched down in front of the garage at 4:23 a.m. _I don’t have much time. Aunt Cass will be up soon,_ but Hiro knew he couldn’t put this off. His skin was buzzing now, charged and warm like a battery that had been plugged in too long.

“Hiro,” Baymax said, the familiar monotone grounding him even as it soothed the emotional torrent inside. “Your elevated bpm and breathing rate indicate you may be undergoing excessive mental stress. Suggestion: breathing exercises and taking a short break from school to recover. An uninterrupted eight-hours of sleep tonight is recommended. I suggest a brief 30 minute power nap now to refresh yourself and avoid offsetting your normal sleep cycle.”

“Thanks buddy,” Hiro sighed, inhaling deeply through his nose afterwards. “But I couldn’t sleep now even if I wanted too. Not after this.” _Not looking forward to the nightmares tomorrow night either,_ he added mentally. 

The garage door rolled up smoothly with little sound (Hiro kept it well-oiled and maintained just for times like these). Baymax shuffled inside after him and, after checking both directions to make sure no one spotted them entering the property while suited, Hiro pulled the door shut behind them. 

“Okay,” he completed another set of bracing inhale-exhales and began removing purple armor pieces soon as the overhead light flickered on. “Tests. I need to run some tests and figure stuff out. Baymax I need you to scan me…”

“Scan complete.”

“No! Not now,” he face palmed. “Can you just… monitor my vitals and check for irregularities while I try something.”

“Of course, scanning now.”

“Thanks,” Hiro said, raising his now bare hand palm-up: scrutinizing the appendage. _Okay, I just need to remember how I did this… while I was upset and not thinking straight, no pressure._ He released a frustrated groan after several seconds of nothing. _Maybe it’s tied to emotion? I was... upset. That woman’s seemed to flare up when she was scared too… and Honey said her classmate’s stopped when he calmed down. I just need to reinvoke what set mine off._ Hiro was in no hurry to relive painful memories, but, if kept him from being strapped to a gurney and rolled into a dark van-

_Okay, what was I feeling? I… I remembered the showcase fire... Tadashi… it was hot..._

Heat washed over him, dreaded and familiar all at once. _I remember this._ It felt like fire, all consuming. He could almost hear the roar drowning out everything but the sensation. _No… focus! You need to focus!_ He closed his eyes then, concentrating on his outstretched hand; the lightning had come from his hands. He tried envisioning little currents of white electricity crackling between his fingers.

“Whoa!”

Hiro’s eyes flew open at a sharp series of crackles, not unlike the sound of firecrackers. Yellow-white sparks popped up through the thick skin of his palm, arching downwards and fizzling out on the concrete flooring. He yelped at the unexpected result, shaking his affected limb until the sparks stopped. Shivers shook his body immediately afterwards, a sudden chill washing over him, though his hand still tingling with the warm feeling of static.

“B… Baymax… report.” 

“I detected an alarming buildup of bio-electricity, originating in the central nervous system and gradually moving into the peripheral,” Baymax explained, the screen on his chest lighting up to display a mapped image of Hiro’s nervous system with highlighted sections. “It reached nearly dangerous levels, but, after receiving an abnormal signal, was quickly dispelled through the epidermis of your palm.”

“Great,” Hiro groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Any idea what’s causing this.”

“My sensors can only detect the symptoms. I cannot diagnose since these symptoms are not in my database.”

“There has to be something!” he exclaimed, pacing as an increasing sense of panic came over him. “How am I supposed to understand this if I don’t know why it’s happening?!”

The ceiling light flickered then and Baymax’s screen went blank.

“Oh no, no,” Hiro whispered. “Okay, think calm... breath in… breath out… breath in…”

“Battery charged at: ninety-eight percent,” Baymax announced as the light stabilized overhead.

“Well, that’s useful,” Hiro muttered, collapsing into the black rolling chair in front of his garage computer terminal. A beep sounded as the machine booted without physical prompting. “Guess learning how to control... _this_ is higher priority than understanding the hows and whys for now.”

“The bio-electric pulses reacted to an abnormal signal from the brain. they also seemed influenced by the presence of stress hormones such as adrenaline and cortisol.”

“In other words, stay calm… got it,” he said, then another, disturbing possibility hit him. “Baymax, does it… is it harming my body in any way?”

“Aside from the abnormal output, you appear perfectly healthy,” Baymax assured.

“Alright. Thanks, buddy.”

A noise upstairs alerted him to the end of their ticking time clock. _Aunt Cass is awake._ Running to hide his discarded armor under the usual plastic tarp, Hiro quickly threw on his faded blue hoodie and mumbled a, “I’m satisfied with my care,” before his aunt turned the doorknob. 

“Hiro?” she stood in the doorway, brown hair mussed and suppressing a yawn. The right side of her face still had pressure indents from where she’d lain against the couch arm. “What are you doing up so e… yaa… early?”

“Hey, Aunt Cass… I, uh… had trouble sleeping, so I thought I’d get a headstart on some homework while I was up?”

“Okay,” she said with a frown. Her green eyes moved up and down his body critically. _Please buy it, please buy it,_ he mentally pleaded as she made her assessment. “You know, If you’re having nightmares again, we can ask the doctor about getting some mild sleep aids. Just say the word and I’ll set up an appointment.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, both relieved and grateful. She may not have all the facts, but Hiro knew Aunt Cass would always have his back. 

xxxxxx 

xxxxxx

The inner-city alley Fuuko called home was filthy, overpowered by the smell of fish and urine. Dust floated through the foul air around her, caught in sunbeams of early morning light as she peeled back the wooden board covering an abandoned warehouse window. The same sun glinted off bleach blonde streaks scattered throughout her dark hair, piled high on her head in an elaborate coif. A shortened brocade kimono and knee high vinyl boots completed her non-traditional look.

“You’re dressed awfully nice for someone who’s homeless,” a raspy female voice drawled behind her.

“Wha’dya want, Hitomi,” Fuuko snarled, releasing the board and whirling around as it snapped back with a loud bang. “Don’cha have a pit fight to referee or somethin’?”

“Bot fights,” Hitomi corrected absently, picking at her long, black manicured nails. “A fellow ring girl ought to know better.”

“Still doesn’ explain why you’re here.”

Hitomi narrowed her one uncovered eye in annoyance. No one on the streets knew for certain how she lost her left eye, and she intended to keep it that way; mystery kept people on their toes. Fuuko, however, wasn’t easily intimidated by such tactics. She stared back just as fiercely.

“I heard interesting things about your fight last night,” Hitomi finally said, her dark painted lips curling into a triumphant smirk when the other girl shifted nervously.

“Did Yama put you up to this? That egg-sucking slimeball got his money!”

“I couldn’t care less about Yama and his bruised oh-so-fragile ego,” Hitomi snorted. “I’m more interested in the rumors going around about you.”

“What, you believing gossip now,” Fuuko chuckled, but her anxious posture didn’t change. “An’ here I thought you were smart…”

Hitomi reached up suddenly and pulled a sharpened hairstick from the messy twist atop her head, throwing the weapon towards Fuuko in the same fluid motion. She moved to duck, but survival instincts had kicked in. Soft blue light emanated from her eyes and the stagnant air around them stirred, abruptly moving to push the projectile off-course. Hitomi grinned as the charged gust raised goosebumps on her bare arms. Her lacquered hairstick fell off to the side, clattering against dirty, cracked asphalt. The glow faded from Fuuko’s eyes and the surrounding air stilled in an instant. Her face paled to an ashen shade. 

“It was the wind!”

“Oh, I know it was the wind,” Hitomi laughed. “I just needed to see it for myself first… before I gave my proposal.”

“So you’re gonna blackmail me now?” Fuuko laughed right back. “I’ll disappear before I give a _snake_ like you any satisfaction!”

“Nothing of the sort,” Hitomi gestured dismissively. “I’m suggesting a partnership, an alliance. We free ourselves from Yama’s grip and make a name for ourselves outside his network! What do you say, Fuuko? Join me and I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“And how’s that any different from blackmail?”

Because,” she said, lifting her eyepatch to reveal a glowing white orb nestled between the jagged scar tissue of her socket. “You’re not alone.” 

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

_“And in other news, SFIT campus is currently on lockdown after another student manifested Alter abilities in the robotics lab early this morning. According to sources on site…”_

Aunt Cass sighed, muting the television before she left her living room to check the banana muffins still baking. Hiro had already received the (now standard) text and email alerts from school that classes had been cancelled. Her greatest concern during these almost daily events was safe in their garage at the moment, tinkering away as he, “tried to make the most of a free day.” Cass chuckled at her nephew’s antics; it was like pulling teeth to get the boy motivated, but once he was, nothing short of a natural disaster could stop him. Maybe not even that. _And nobody could get that steam rolling quite like Tadashi…_

Significantly sobered for the day, Cass pulled her last muffin batch from the oven. The Lucky Cat Cafe opened at eight-thirty on the nose and she could already see a few regulars waiting by the door when she walked downstairs, tray in hand. She waved in greeting, setting the muffins down on the back counter, and glanced at the small stack of newspapers Hiro brought inside for her barely an hour ago.

_‘The Alter Menace: Why Have Our Youth Turned Against Us?’_

Cass rolled her eyes at the sensational headline. Scare tactics didn’t help anyone, but apparently they made for a good story. Not that she wasn’t guilty of such thoughts herself, especially when Hiro was on campus during a manifestation, still, at least she tried to avoid thinking them.

Just then, the lights flickered and her register re-booted. _Funny, that’s been happening a lot lately._ Seeing as she had another six minutes until official opening, Cass decided to address the suspected cause and marched out of the cafe towards the garage door.

“Hiro!” she called just before swinging it open.

“Aunt Cass!” the boy stepped into her view quickly, slightly out-of-breath for some reason. “Did you need something?”

“We just had a power short in the cafe. They’ve been happening quite frequently actually… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

“Um, no… wait, yes” he stuttered. _Definitely lying,_ she thought. “It’s… probably this new program I’m running… from school. Yeah, it eats up a lot of power. I’ll try to watch how much I use it.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed. “Just during business hours, okay? I appreciate it.”

“A… any time.”

She smiled, reaching for a, “last hug,” before heading back to the cafe. Hiro was hiding something- she didn’t know what yet, but as long as she wasn’t getting anymore calls from jail, she resolved to respect his privacy. Right now, she had a business to run.

“Sorry for the wait,” she apologized while unlocking the door. _One minute late, of course._ Her eyes immediately noticed a dark blue sedan with tinted windows parked across the street, the same one she’d seen for the past three days. _It hasn’t moved once in all that time,_ she realized. _That’s odd… has it broken down or..._

“It’s alright Cassie, dear,” Miss Matsuda said, waltzing in and distracting everyone with her usual age-inappropriate outfit. “Did you hear about that new Alter attack at the school today? Terrifying what the world’s coming to… can’t trust just any young kid these days. Hiro’s safe, I hope?”

Cass suppressed a sigh, the mysterious parked car already an afterthought in her mind. _Today’s going to be a looong day. I can feel it._


	5. Chapter 4: The New Kids

_“We’re The Fujitas!”_

“Where’d you find this one?” Fuuko rolled her kohl-lined eyes at the newbie’s display. Hitomi, to her credit, didn’t exactly look impressed herself.

“Akai is still an Alter like us,” she sighed. “That’s all that matters.”

“Not if I wanna strangle ‘er,” Fuuko muttered.

The new girl rolled forward on her shiny white rollerblades (a fashion statement she blatantly stole from Fuuko), dragging the steel bat that was her preferred weapon behind her. Akai was younger than them- she claimed to be seventeen, but Fuuko pegged her as no older than fifteen- and dyed her hair the most obnoxious shade of fire engine red. She wore their gang’s trademark white face paint and shortened kimono (as decided by both founding members early on), but customized her pink outfit by clipping numerous cute animal charms around the yellow obijime holding her trailing red obi in place.

“How do you like my street art, anego?” Akai grinned, spinning around to take in the large thug moaning on the ground. He clutched at his ears, red seeping through thick fingers. On the wall above him, painted in what was obviously his blood, were the kanji of their gang name arranged in the shape of a stylized ‘F.’ Akai may have adopted a more cutesy aesthetic than her mentors, but that colorful veneer cloaked a truly sadistic streak, alongside an even more dangerous trait. She was eager to please.

“I think it’ll work beautifully,” Hitomi nodded with a pleased smile, removing her hand casually from the open front fold of her off-shoulder forest green kimono. “Yama’s goons sure won’t forget it.”

“That one won’t,” Fuuko snorted, picking absently at a stray silver thread on her embroidered blue sleeve. “But these’re all small time… skirmishes. What happened to makin’ this worth my while?”

“You’re absolutely right, Fuuko,” Hitomi grinned. “We need to establish ourselves with a big event… something infamous. A job that people will really talk about.”

“And let me guess,” she scoffed. “You’ve got something in mind? _Seen_ a promising future for us with that freaky deaky eye of yours?”

“I don’t need to waste my powers when I can read a newspaper just fine without it,” Hitomi reached back into the open front of her kimono and pulled out a crumpled newspaper clipping as she spoke. “There’s a new museum exhibit on loan from Japan. A weapons exhibit.” 

“Weapons, huh? Now you’re talkin’ my language,” Fuuko said with a throaty laugh.

“Sounds like fun,” Akai added with her own girlish giggle. “What are we waiting for?” 

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

The San Fransokyo History Museum was expansive, with a renowned collection spread across four massive wings and spanning millennia of human history. Every child raised in the city was familiar with the flat sprawling structure: the iconic (outdated) white marble facade clashing against polished durasteel and bright neon lights around it.

“Last time I was here was for an elementary school field trip… before I started skipping grades,” Hiro said wistfully, circling over the jutting North Wing on Baymax. On either side of him, Honey Lemon and Wasabi clung to the extended wings with varying degrees of apprehension.

“I need to find a better way to travel,” Wasabi swore.

“You’re welcome to join us down here, man,” Fred responded cheerfully through their earpieces.

“I just might do that.”

“Guys, focus,” Hiro chastised. He had a strategy: Fred and Gogo were covering the ground for a reason. “Alright the alarm was tripped thirteen minutes ago, two security guards are unaccounted for, and, according to the main security team, all three perps are still inside. Keep your eyes on the exits, team.”

“Alright!”

“Got it.”

“Okay, buddy,” Hiro said. “Let’s circle back around and scan the building to find our would-be art thieves.”

“Scanning... I have picked up three distinct readings in the West Wing, deviating from the security checkpoints and routes marked on my downloaded map.”

“Fly us over those coordinates, then,” Hiro commanded. They changed course, tilting in a sharp aerial turn, and Wasabi whimpered. “Fred, Gogo- keep circling the ground route until we know for…”

An incendiary explosion blasted through a wall in the West Wing just then, leaving behind a decent sized gap from which dark smoke and the tangy stench of sulfur billowed. Large chunks of solid marble flew far into the deserted street, cracking pavement where they landed, slamming into a yellow fire hydrant and completely blockading the adjacent sidewalk. Water shot upwards from the broken hydrant base: a pressurized geyser of city water reaching twenty feet high before raining back down on the scene in a cool, ethereal mist.

“Well, If that’s not a pretty definitive, for sure, I don’t know what is,” Honey quipped. “And, from the looks of it, the hole actually was caused by a bomb this time Freddie.”

“Hey, even a broken clock is right once a day,” Fred defended himself over the radio.

“Actually, it’s twice a day…”

“Guys! Not now,” Hiro snapped. “Alright, new plan, everybody. Head straight for the blast zone and engage. Baymax!”

“Beginning descent. Hold on,” the robot warned before switching his thrusters downward, abruptly angling his body to land upright.

“Oh, I hate this part,” Wasabi muttered.

When they finally touched down in the middle of the street, three petite figures were easily discernable through the damp haze: picking their way through the crumbling exit. Wasabi didn’t miss a beat. All business, he leapt to the ground- activating his electro-magnetic blades in a (seemingly) fearless display, Honey and Hiro right behind him. Fred jumped down from a nearby fire escape just as Gogo rolled around the corner to join them.

“Well, girls... looks like we’ve caught the attention of San Fransokyo’s new heroes,” the middle woman (and apparent leader) drawled, stepping forward. All three wore shortened kimono (cut-off at mid thigh) and kabuki-inspired make-up, but the ringleader was the only one donning black combat boots instead of sleek white rollerblades. Her green kimono was off-shoulder as well, in true yakuza-head-honcho fashion, exposing the white bandages binding her chest underneath. All eyes eventually caught on the old-fashioned sword and sheath tucked into the clamshell knot of her purple obi- the ornate hilt sticking out in an obvious trophy display. 

“Dude!” Fred exclaimed. “That’s Tomoe Gozen’s katana.”

“Who?” Hiro asked, never taking his eyes off their opponents. The humanities weren’t exactly his area of expertise.

“Ooh! She was this super famous lady samurai who kicked major butt around the... I wanna say… twelfth century?”

“Very good, the lizard mascot knows his stuff,” the leader’s hoarse voice practically purred. She ignored his indignant, _“that’s Fredzilla to you!”_ stroking an affectionate hand down the hilt before grasping it to unsheath the blade in a fluid motion. “Do you like it? I thought it a fitting gift for the next great female warrior.”

“Yeah, well we’re putting that ‘gift’ back in the museum!” Hiro snarked back.

One of the other women (wearing a dark blue furisode embroidered with silver and white swirl patterns) laughed harshly, reaching back to grab a pair of metal war fans stashed inside the butterfly knot of her pale grey obi. They snapped open with simple wrist flicks, the decorative gold leaf kanji hammered along the outer ribs indicating that they were most likely stolen museum artifacts as well.

”You littl’ nose-wipes are welcome to try.” 

“Yeah,” the third (dressed in a pink, floral-patterned kimono) piped up, slinging a metal bat behind her shoulders in blatant display. “Think you’ve got what it takes to go up against The Fujitas?”

“Well, they might... we’ve got six against three here,” the sword-wielder lamented with a sardonic smirk. “That hardly seems fair,” she reached up to push the black eye patch over her left eye aside as she spoke, “let’s even the odds a bit.”

The glowing white orb, surrounded by rough, discolored scarring, where her eye should be shocked them all, but only Honey Lemon voiced it.

“She’s an Alter!”

“Not just her,” the fan-wielder spun her arms, long sleeves trailing gracefully as the air grew static (none felt it more keenly than Hiro) and swirled around them. Her eyes emitted a pale blue light as currents shrunk in a condensed twister around her: lifting the young woman up towards the sky.

“Okay,” Hiro whistled through clenched teeth, strategies flipping and falling through his mind at each piece of new information. “I’ll take the sky with Baymax. Wasabi, Fred- take the girl with the bat. Gogo, Honey- you’ve got the swordswoman. Try to figure out what her power is first.”

A chorus of affirmatives sounded, and the battle began. Hiro locked on to Baymax’s back, taking off as the fan-wielder soared higher. She peered down at him with eerie glowing eyes, the roaring sound of Baymax’s thrusters alerting her to their approach, and grinned sadistically.

“Try ta keep up, kid.”

Quickly, the young hero realized his choice of opponent was a big mistake. She controlled the very air around them- flying effortlessly up, down, and diagonal, pumping her legs to finetune her momentum. The way her body moved (plus the rollerblades on her feet) gave the appearance of skating on an invisible track, one that changed course at her slightest whims. And, try as they might, the two never seemed able to catch up. 

“Hiro, the surrounding air currents are not behaving in accordance to my weather forecast database. I am unable to plot an accurate flight trajectory in these conditions.”

“Great,” Hiro muttered. She pivoted mid-air to face them as he spoke, blue sleeves flapping dramatically, swiping her metal fans in a wide arch just as the first of several powerful blasts of wind hit them. They wobbled, and Baymax pulled back before the unwieldy gusts sent them spinning out of control. Hiro swore colorfully in his head. Shooting projectiles (like Baymax’s Rocket Fist) would clearly be a pointless endeavor. _A lightning blast might work,_ he thought, but Hiro’s Alter skills were still green, not to mention it would out him to the entire team before he had a chance to tell them himself. Claiming his gauntlets had electroshock capabilities only stretched so far. _Think, genius!_

_“Aiieeeeee!”_

An echoey, inhuman scream drew Hiro’s attention away from his fight then. Below, Wasabi fell to his knees with a shriek of pain, hands clamped firmly over his ears. The redheaded Fujita zoomed forward to take advantage, steel bat raised overhead, but a stream of well-placed fire from the mouth of Fred’s suit sent her spiraling into a detour- zigzaging haphazardly to avoid debris in the street.

“Wasabi! What happened? What was that?” Hiro cried.

“She’s like a banshee, dude,” Fred answered between pants. He wrapped a fake blue monster paw around Wasabi, just as the screaming Fujita came rolling back.

“Baymax! Rocket punch!” Hiro ordered in an attempt to distract her. However, his airborne opponent sent another strong gust of wind to knock it off course. Hiro saw as well as heard the redhead’s attack this time. The sound alone was enough to give him the heebie-jeebies, but the luminescent yellow-green rings that emerged from her open jaw, expanding outwards like soundwaves, added whole new levels of nightmare fuel. 

_“Aiieeeeee!”_

Luckily, Fred had managed to secure a good grasp on Wasabi. He leapt out of the way, landing on a flat, low rooftop nearby and setting Wasabi down. Relieved at their escape, Hiro didn’t notice the oncoming divebomb attack. He yelped as Baymax dodged the fan-wielder without warning, a sharp whistle in his ears indicating just how close the metal blades of her fans came to his head. He took the short opportunity while she recovered to check on Gogo and Honey Lemon.

“Gogo, Honey- what’s up on your end.”

“Not much,” Gogo practically growled, flipping and sliding backwards to avoid a potentially fatal strike. The swordwielder stood between the two heroes as they circled her. They were clearly at a stalemate: neither party having delivered a definitive blow. “We can’t get a punch in, no matter what we try!”

While the Fujita’s attention was narrowed on the speedster, Honey Lemon threw a yellow ball of (what Fred called) extra-hold sticky goo. Without turning to acknowledge, or even _see_ , her action, the leader hopped away- landing nimbly atop a piece of overturned marble columning just as neon liquid splashed across the ground beneath her, puddling outwards and flowing smoothly around the obstruction she perched on. Hiro narrowed his gaze; it was almost as though she knew exactly what Honey Lemon’s offensive would do.

“Alright,” he nodded, pausing briefly as Baymax quickly evaded an upwards strike from the fan-wielder, jerking him sideways. 

“Keep your head in the game, kid! Unless you wanna lose it!” she crowed, laughing manically as she soaring higher.

“Alright, another change of plans,” he continue where he left off. “Honey, switch with Fred. The redhead has sonic vocal blasts so we need long distance attacks for her. Fred, switch with me. Projectiles don’t work with her so try to jump close- grab her, drag her down, get her out of the air any way you can. I’ll provide air cover for any and everyone who needs it.”

“Sounds good, little bro.”

“Alright.”

“Got it.”

Honey sprinted over immediately to swap with Fred- running in a wide arch around the yellow circumference of her earlier attack. The sword-wielder took advantage of her distraction and leapt from the raised outcropping for a sneaky back stab. 

“Honey Lemon!” Gogo cried out. The taller girl turned, but it was too late to react- and Gogo couldn’t cross the distance in time. She watched the silver blade swing forward, pushing herself onwards, still hoping she could (somehow) intercept its path before the sharp edge sliced through Honey’s vulnerable neck. A gloved hand stretched forward, _if I could just reach,_ straining with all her might because a team without Honey wouldn’t feel right anymore.

_Not her… please, not her._

Intense heat exploded from her chest suddenly, rushing across her body and down each limb. Her outstretched arm radiated an opaque yellow light: almost blinding in its brilliance, and the world abruptly slowed down. She did not, however. Gogo was a ball of furious yellow energy, speeding towards the woman inching her sword closer and closer to Honey’s neck. She barrelled into the Fujita at full force, slamming her against the nearest marble wall; she felt no remorse when the sound of bone snapping reached her ears.

Gogo’s moment of primal triumph died the moment the world righted itself. The yellow light around her dissipated and motion seemed to fast forward ever so briefly as time caught up. Honey stumbled backwards, the Fujita screamed, and Gogo was left completely disoriented: her feverish brain trying to comprehend exactly what happened in those last two seconds.

_“Anego!"_

The redhead abandoned her battle post and raced forward. She ignored the stunned hero in yellow as she slid to a stop in front of her fallen leader, arms and brocade sleeves fluttering nervously around like butterfly wings.

“But, anego… how? I thought you could always see their next moves?”

“Only with intention,” the injured Fujita hissed. Hiro and Honey Lemon’s eyes both widened simultaneously as that elusive puzzle piece slotted into place. _She can see potential thoughts of action… she can predict your moves._

Gogo, however, wasn’t capable of processing the new information. She stood there, still, only seeing the yellow light engulf her hand. She heard the crack of bone, close to the sound of cracking pavement, and breaking glass. Closing her eyes, she saw looming black vans, and the blood on Honey’s cheek after Ivan manifested. All Gogo could think at that moment was, _I’m one of them._

Heat bubbled up in her chest again. Brown eyes snapped open, terrified at the thought of losing herself again- of hurting someone, of hurting _her._ She swayed back, rolling with jerky movements.

“No,” she whispered.

On cue, three black vans turned the nearby corner and screeched to a halt- a record six cop cars behind them. Any other day, the team might have noted their late arrival with an exasperated joke- however, during this fight, they were at a loss to do anything but curse their absolutely terrible timing. 

Hiro was the only one who saw it coming, was perhaps the only one who could have seen. He understood exactly what Gogo was going through because he had experienced it himself (even though no one but Baymax knew). When she fled, he was already jumping on Baymax to follow her.

“Wait! Gogo! Hiro!” Honey Lemon called. They didn’t look back and she didn’t go after them, knowing she had no chance of catching up. _She just left… she saved me, but she left._ The feeling of abandonment was hard to dismiss.

“Freeze!”

Several agents in army green tactical gear jumped from the open van doors: crouching in rough formation with raised guns. Numerous SFPD officers ran forward, following suit. Flashing police lights reflected red and blue off chunks of marble rubble lying in the street and the surrounding buildings. The entire scene was pure madness. 

“Aw, for the love of,” the fan-wielding Fujita spat, landing on the ground between the remaining heroes and her comrades. “Akai! Get her out of here! Now! We got what we came for.”

“A… alright.”

Blue blazing eyes were the only warning everyone had before an overpowering cyclone blew them off their feet. Chalky dust billowed upwards, obscuring vision beyond visors and masks. By the time it cleared, the Fujitas were long gone.

“Useless! The lot of you!”

Honey Lemon, wiping her visor clean as best she could with a grimy sleeve, turned her head towards the gruff voice. A familiar agent with a military buzz-cut and grey trenchcoat was marching along the police line, his square, non-descript face livid.

“Complete waste of a trip!” Agent Shen spat. “Our resources aren’t infinite! You can bet someone’s gonna…”

His tirade trailed off as a tall silhouette registered in his peripheral. Honey shuffled backwards slowly at the man’s sudden hawkish attention. _Mi mente, I can’t… my head’s a mess… I can’t talk to him now._

“Fred,” she whispered into her mouthpiece. “I don’t think hanging around here is a good idea.”

“Roger that, loud and clear.” 

The looming monster figure was by her side in an instant. She threw relieved arms around his wide blue “shoulders” just as the agent began a brisk stride towards them.

“Going up,” Fred announced cheekily. He power-jumped and Honey Lemon’s gut clenched at the abrupt change in altitude (despite his warning); their trajectory took them in a graceful arch towards the roof where Wasabi lay in wait. Shen could only watch as his secondary quarry escaped right in front of him.

“So much for second chances,” he grumbled, following the the distant figures as they jumped between roofs (a third body seemingly in tow now).

Meanwhile, above the streets, Honey clung to Fred’s shoulders: focusing on the way her long blonde hair whipped in front of her tinted visor to distract from how little control she had at the moment. _Gogo… Hiro… the vans… nothing makes sense anymore._ They travelled in silence, save for Fred’s labored pants and an occasional pained moan from Wasabi. 

“Hey, Honey,” Fred finally broke the tension. “We just got our butts kicked, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Freddie,” Honey Lemon choked out something closer to sobbing than laughter. “We just got our butts kicked.”

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

“Gogo! Stop!”

She didn’t listen. Racing from alley to backstreet, Gogo lost herself in the rush of speed- the only thing she ever felt comfortable losing herself to. No one else but her got hurt when she raced, after all. And Hiro, despite his good intentions, would get burned.

“Come on!” his voice was still loud through her earpiece, yet (in contrast) the volume of Baymax’s thrusters became fainter with distance. Her tactic was working! At least, it was, until she heard his muttered, “sorry about this,” and a surprise electrical shock sent her tumbling ass over teakettle against hard, poorly-paved asphalt. In all honesty, the durable carbon fiber suit was probably the only thing keeping her bones intact during that fall.

“What the… Hiro!”

Baymax touched down, rattling off his usual litany of diagnosis (which she pointedly ignored) as she pushed herself into a more dignified upright position. Her right side hip throbbed in a definitely-gonna-bruise-black kind of way, otherwise, Gogo determined there was no lasting damage- by her standards, at least. Hiro jumped down to the street then, a few stray electric sparks still running between his gloved fingers. But the bigger concern at that moment was the distance from which he shocked her. The engineer in her knew off the bat electroshock weapons of the size needed to fit within his gauntlets weren’t capable of that.

“How long?” she demanded, not wasting a single breath.

“Gogo…”

_“How long?!”_

“Three weeks,” he sighed, defeated. “Well, closer to four now. It was that night with the woman from… the woman with the energy barriers.” 

“Knew something was wrong before you took off,” she mumbled. Lightly slamming a closed fist against the rough asphalt, she fixed an accusing glare on him from behind her purple face shield. “You promised to talk later.”

“I… I know, and I’m sorry,” he reached up to remove his helmet, exposing his genuinely contrite expression. Gogo felt too drained of energy to admonish him for the blatant carelessness.

“Why?” she questioned instead.

“I... don’t know? I wish I had a good answer, but I just… don’t,” Hiro kneeled in front of her then, setting his helmet on the ground by his knees. “It’s kind of overwhelming, you know? It happened so suddenly... I didn’t really think. I… well, Baymax, made sure it wasn’t going to hurt me, then I was just trying to figure things out, and, before I knew it, weeks passed by and it just seemed harder after that.”

“I see,” she hummed. 

“I’ve been working on how to control it in my garage, though… with Baymax. It’s been a really big help! I think maybe, if you joined us…?”

“Maybe,” she replied, but the sentiment felt hollow- had since he’d spoken the words, " _three weeks._ "

“Gogo?”

She didn’t respond to him, couldn’t bring herself to even look him in the eye in that instant. The only thing her numb mind could do was stand up on wobbly, pins-n’-needle legs, and walk away.

_"Gogo!"_

She didn’t look back.


	6. Chapter 5: Only the Beginning

Hiro’s trek back to the cafe that night was an emotionally turbulent one.

After Gogo left him alone in the alley, retreating in stony silence even as he called her name, he turned her less than stellar reaction over in his head- and came to a decision.

“Baymax, take me to Fred’s.”

“Hiro, your neurotransmitters…”

“I know!” he snapped, though he quickly regretted the outburst. “Sorry, buddy… I already know. Just… take me to Fred’s. Please... it’ll help… I hope.”

“Close contact and reassurance from loved ones can help reduce stress hormones,” Baymax recited while Hiro climbed back on, clicking his boots into the magnetic locks. Red wings snapped open and thrusters rumbled as they lifted off- the sound of wind whisking by and constant vibrations beneath him doing little to distract from the thoughts cycling through his head. 

He was done with secrets from his team. Even if they were scared, if they rejected him, they deserved to hear the truth from him; not to have in sprung on them in a heated moment like Gogo had.

They landed just outside the Lee mansion gate what seemed like moments later. Hiro hated to admit it, but he hesitated there: ruminating in his head over how easy keeping his mouth shut would be. _They don’t have to know… once I tell them, there’s no going back…_

_But,_ logic kicked in, _we’ve already reached the point of no return. There’s no going back, no matter what._ Gogo was proof of that.

“Hiro,” Baymax interrupted. “My sensors detect an increase of stress hormones.”

“I know, Buddy,” he took a bracing inhale, disengaged his magnetic hold, and approached the impressive double front doors- armored robot in tow.

Heathcliff answered, but Honey Lemon was right behind him- still wearing her battle gear, sans helmet and purse. Looking at the raw emotion on her face, Hiro (for the second time that hour) felt uncomfortable hiding behind his own face shield. He removed the helmet: meeting her eye to eye. She answered his gesture with a wobbling smile.

“Hiro… thank goodness you’re safe.”

She flung herself forward and engulfed him in a bone crushing hug; a hug he didn’t realize he desperately needed until then. He returned the embrace with fervor. That was the moment Hiro realized everything would turn out fine. These were his friends, his teammates: who donned colorful armor alongside him, instead of simply dismissing his ideas as childish fantasies. Who threw themselves into their superhero escapades wholeheartedly. They trusted him ( _probably more than I deserve_ ), and above all, they loved each other.

“Hey… Honey. We need to talk… all of us.”

“Of course,” she nodded, releasing him and leading the way to one of the Lee family’s unused study rooms. Inside, Wasabi lay on a small forest green couch, recovering, while Fred refilled their much-used first aid kit at the polished oak desk. The latter looked up from his task when they entered. Hiro could have staggered at the sheer amount of sincere relief on his face.

“Hey! Glad you could make the after-battle pow-wow, little bro.” 

“Yeah, sorry to bail on you like that,” Hiro shrugged sheepishly.

“Is Gogo okay?” Honey Lemon interrupted then, voice trembling. “Sorry… I’m just… what happened?”

“I… everything’s fine,” he sighed. “I hope.” 

He told them everything: from his discovery of the force field woman’s identity to Gogo’s flight after their last battle. Honey hugged him several times during the telling and again after, offering an unconditional support Hiro never expected to get from anyone outside Baymax ( _and Tadashi, before_ ). Fred, naturally, had the most predictable reaction.

“T… this is… just… dude! You’re like a real-life superhero now!”

“What? And he wasn’t before?” Honey countered playfully, though her tone remained slightly strained in the wake of earlier emotions. “What about us then?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Fred defended quickly. “I mean… man, I gotta see this! We can totally test out your powers in the backyard gardens... I’ll have Heathcliff set some cool stuff up like last time… targets made out of different materials to check how various matter react to your… oh! And some old electronics! Hiro! Do you think you can scramble electronics with your powers?”

“I can charge Baymax’s battery back to full when it’s low,” Hiro said with a shrug. “And I… kinda shorted out the lights in the cafe a couple times… so, probably?” 

“See! That’s what I’m talking about! Think about it… just think of all the epic pranks you could pull with that...”

“Fred,” Wasabi groaned, sitting up from his slumped position on the couch and leaning forward. “We’re going to stop that conversation right here… right now. Hiro, Honey… don’t encourage him.”

“Aw, buzzkill.”

“Hey, someone’s got to keep you in check,” Wasabi massaged his temples as he spoke, ears clearly still ringing from the Fujitas’ attack. And yet, he had listened attentively- persevering through splitting headaches to catch every word of Hiro’s story. The gesture was touching, but paled in comparison to his follow-up.

“So, what kind of tests did you run, Hiro? And how are you feeling? Did you check with Baymax to make sure your body isn’t being negatively impacted by this in any way?”

“Uh, yeah… Baymax has been monitoring me.”

“That sounds good,” Wasabi nodded his approval of Hiro’s method. “What about theories on causality? Have you noticed patterns between you and the other Alters? Have any leads?”

Wasabi fired off question after question, and he was thorough. In less tactful hands, the exchange might have felt like an interrogation; Hiro never felt grilled, though. Care and concern exuded from every inquiry, and Wasabi provided helpful responses in kind. 

“What types of mental exercises have you been working with?”

“Mostly calming techniques,” Hiro answered. “Strong emotions kind of set off a chain reaction that’s hard to reign in… Baymax downloaded a bunch of stuff on meditation, but… well, sitting still and _‘clearing my mind’_ s’not really my thing. We’re working on it.”

“Hm, maybe having some motion to go along with your meditations might help,” Wasabi said. “You know, I’ve been practicing Tai Chi since my high school days. I could give you a few pointers…”

“Really?!” Hiro jumped at the offer. “That sounds so much better than sitting on the floor and just visualizing different concepts to get my brain to shut up. It never works!”

“Hiro,” Baymax interjected. “According to my progress charts, your timing has been steadily improving over the past week.” 

“Yeah, but Aunt Cass still came down and told me her POS rebooted again the other day,” Hiro muttered. “Really, though… thanks, Wasabi.”

“Hey what are friends for?” he chuckled, scratching the slight scruff on his chin absently. “Baymax is right, though. You seem like you’ve been doing a pretty good job so far. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

“Wasabi’s right, Hiro,” Honey Lemon chimed in. “You should definitely give yourself more credit, but don’t be afraid to ask for help either. We’re here for you.”

“Ditto, little man.”

“And you can bet I’ll be adding a database of potential Alter correlations to my research load,” Wasabi added as the sentiment in Hiro swelled. “Along with anything else I uncover about those agents we keep running into.” 

“Still nothing on that front?” Honey said with a troubled frown.

"Not yet,” Wasabi sighed. “But I will find something in the records somewhere, just you wait. Nothing and no one are _completely_ invisible,” he ended his declaration with a pained hiss, reaching up to pinch the pressure point between the bridge of his nose. 

“According to my scans, you are suffering from a prolonged case of noise induced tinnitus,” Baymax informed the group. “Recommended treatment: several hours of rest in a calm, quiet environment.” 

“Much as I’d love to follow that advice right now, I think it’ll have to wait a couple hours,” Wasabi spoke through tightened jaw.

“Hey, no way, my man,” Fred jumped in. “We literally have dozens of empty guest rooms upstairs. Just crash in one of those for the night.”

“Really, Fred, I can drive…”

“Uh uh, say no more. Besides, it’s no biggie… not like anybody else’s using the bedspace anyway.”

“That does sound like a good idea,” Hiro chimed in. “I can leave Baymax here too… to keep tabs on your condition.” 

“Are you sure about that, Hiro?” Wasabi asked, hand moving from the pinch point on his nose to brush self-consciously through his dreadlocks. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. It’s really not as serious as you guys are making it out to be…”

“Hey,” their youngest member interrupted him with a beaming, gap-toothed smile. “What are friends for?” 

Hiro left Fred’s that night feeling safe, protected, and cherished. Honey Lemon accompanied him the majority of the way, only parting ways at his insistent, “really, I’ll be fine! Your building’s down that street… just go!” One last lingering hug from the tall blonde warmed him against the chill damp night for the last few blocks (his thin blue hoodie certainly didn’t do much in that regard) until he reached the familiar corner cafe: interior dark and decorative wooden door sign flipped to ‘closed.’ Hiro walked around the back as he usually did after hours, fumbling through his cargo short pockets for a set of keys. He whistled an upbeat pop song Honey had been playing in the lab lately as he unlocked the door to his home, and not even the irritating lisp caused by the gap between his teeth could sour the mood.

“Aunt Cass!” he called out from the entryway, removing his sneakers and setting them on the wooden shoe rack. “Sorry I’m home late!”

“Oh, Hiro,” her voice echoed eerily down the dimly lit stairwell. “We’re in the kitchen.” 

He paused. Aunt Cass had sounded almost uncertain of herself, and she used a plural ‘we.’ Stomach dropping out, Hiro bounded up the stairs by twos- barely catching himself on the doorjamb at the top, and looked up to find one of his worst nightmares sitting at their small round kitchen table.

“Hiro Hamada,” Agent Morris smiled. Her red hair was pinned back, slick against her skull, a perfect compliment to the slim brown pantsuit she wore. Beside her, Aunt Cass sat ramrod straight: fingers fidgeting nervously around a white, full-to-the-brim ceramic mug. Upon closer examination, Hiro noticed a distinct lack of steam wafting from lip. _Aunt Cass’ coffee’s gone cold… not good,_ he mentally hissed.

“I suppose you could count this as our first face-to-face introduction,” Morris continued, gesturing towards the chair across the table from them ( _as if she owns the place,_ he thought indignantly). “Please, take a seat…”

“Who are you?” he asked, figuring (in his internally-panicked state) the best course of action was to play dumb.

“Let’s not play this game,” Morris sighed, her benign expression falling. “We both know better. You and your little superhero team have been involved in our business far more than you should have been as of late.”

_So much for laying low. _He flicked his gaze briefly from the larger threat, trying to gage his aunt’s reaction at the sudden identity reveal, but her poker face was in full effect. Only the occasional finger twitch around her coffee mug gave away the woman’s barely restrained anxiety.__

__“How did you find out?” Hiro demanded after several seconds of tense silence, realizing excuses wouldn’t get him by any further._ _

__“It wasn’t hard,” the agent shrugged. “Especially after we put you on observation, due to your connection with the showcase fire. You might want to be more careful in the future, our video not only caught your comings and goings from this location… in uniform, so to speak… but also those experiments in the garage with your newfound talents…”_ _

__“Wait a minute,” Cass interrupted, neutral expression immediately dropping. “You were _spying?_ On my nephew? _In his home?!_ ”_ _

__“Ma’am, I don’t think you understand how delicate this particular situation is…”_ _

__“I don’t care! What goes on under my roof is our business, not yours!”_ _

__“And were you aware of his extra-curricular activities?” Morris accused. “Or, that he’s an Alter... and he’s been practicing dangerous abilities in your garage unchecked?”_ _

__Hiro felt his stomach twist tighter with every word that left the agent’s mouth- one revelation after another. _This is Gogo all over again,_ he thought numbly, watching his aunt’s eyes widen as each bombshell was dropped unceremoniously on her. _This is so bad… I should’ve never left Fred’s._ Morbidly, he wondered if there was a black van waiting outside in the alley now to whisk him away. Cass rose to the challenge, though, banishing his doubts as she steeled her expression and loomed over in full mama-bear mode, frizzy strands of brown hair falling across her livid face. _ _

__“Whether I knew or not has no bearing on the fact you were _spying_ on us! Illegally, I might add!” she shouted, slamming a fist on the tabletop for emphasis. Lukewarm coffee spilled over the rim of her mug at the jarring motion: seeping into the pastel tablecloth beneath. “Unless you’d like to show me a warrant of some kind… am I wrong?”_ _

__“Oh, I assure you…”_ _

__“Why are you here?!” Hiro interrupted, feeling up to reeling the conversation back since his gut had finally stopped turning somersaults. “What do you want with me?”_ _

__“Well,” Morris ‘ahemed’ loudly, turning away from the woman still glaring daggers as she settled back in her chair. “I apologize for that. I didn’t mean to come off as a threat… we respect how you’ve managed to get your abilities under control without our help, Hiro. It’s an admirable feat.”_ _

__“Uh, thanks?” he said, unsure how to take the condescending compliment._ _

__“We know you and your group have some… suspicions… but we really are here to help. And, since you keep involving yourselves, despite our best attempts to dissuade you, I have some entry level information that might steer you clear of channels you could get into a lot of trouble for exploring.”_ _

__“And you expect me to believe you’ll just fork that over?” Hiro snorted in disbelief. “No strings attached?”_ _

__“Of course not. You don’t owe me your trust… I don’t expect anything,” she leaned forward then, an almost shark-like gleam in her eyes. “But I’m sure you’ve wondered what the connection is? Why Alters have starting appearing suddenly? What they all have in common? It’s how we found you, after all.”_ _

__Hiro did want to know, desperately. But he also didn’t want to give this woman, who carted off people to who-knows where- who spied on him- the satisfaction of stringing him along._ _

__“It’s the SFIT Showcase.”_ _

__“What?!” he gasped. Of any possible answer she could have given him, that one had been the furthest from his mind. He was blindsided. “Are you serious?!”_ _

__“Everyone who has manifested powers was at or near the SFIT Showcase when it went up in flames,” she elaborated with a shrug. “It’s the only common link that remains consistent. Your presence there was high profile enough that you made the top spot on our first watchlist. We’ve been keeping tabs on certain attendees based on speculated risk of manifestation... a preventative measure to lessen the impact on public safety.”_ _

__“So, you used that as an excuse to bypass laws and invade our privacy?” Cass hissed, rising from her chair. “Well that’s convenient! If you don’t mind, Agent Morris, I think you’ve long overstayed your welcome.”_ _

__“I’ve said what I came to say,” she pulled a white business card out of her lapel pocket as she stood (identical to the one she handed to Honey Lemon weeks ago) and set it face-up on the table. “Just, don’t be afraid to reach out if you need to, Hiro. We’re not the bad guys here, whatever you might think.”_ _

__“Of course you aren’t,” Hiro muttered under-breath._ _

__Morris ignored his snark. She stepped around him, but, before she could make her exit, Aunt Cass marched forward and slammed her hand against the jamb: blocking the doorway. She glared at the agent with an intensity that would have sent Hiro ducking for cover had it been directed at him._ _

__“Just so you know, I have a baker’s torch and canola oil spray cans... and I know how to use ‘em. Nobody messes with my boy, you hear me?”_ _

__“Crystal,” Morris spat, pushing past her. “Nobody’ll touch your nephew… as long as he keeps his head down.”_ _

__Hiro released a shaky breath after the front door slammed slut, turning towards his aunt as she trembled in the doorway, “Aunt Cass…?”_ _

__“I’m not letting anything else break up what’s left of our family,” she sounded on the verge of tears as she spoke. “Not while I can do something about it.”_ _

__“Are you... okay?”_ _

__“Me?” Cass whirled around, rushing over to her nephew and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. “That woman threatened you! She _spied_ on you! Don’t worry about me, Hiro… unless you’re worried about me getting grey hairs, but that’s been a given for years.”_ _

__“And you’re okay… with me?”_ _

__“Oh Hiro,” she sighed, carding a comforting hand through his wild black hair. “I know you’ve been keeping something from me for a while now and I had my guesses, even though I wasn’t entirely right… actually not right at all, really... but, back to the point! This is about you, not me. I’m just sorry you weren’t able to tell me yourself on your own terms.”_ _

__“So you’re not mad?”_ _

__“No, sweetie. I’m mad, but not at _you._ ”_ _

__Hiro returned the hug briefly, squeezing for a reassurance she gladly reciprocated before pulling away. There was no time to waste; if Morris’ was telling the truth, the whole team was at risk._ _

__“She said there was a watchlist... I need to warn the others.”_ _

__xxxxxx_ _

__xxxxxx_ _

__Outside, Agent Morris unlocked the blue, four-door sedan parked across the street. On cue, her personal phone rang. She pulled the device out of her front coat pocket and answered without greeting._ _

__“What do you think you’re doing?” Shen’s voice snarled through her earpiece._ _

__“I’m guessing Grant told you?” she sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut behind her. “He’s the only one on my team in on this. I’ll have him transferred out immediately.”_ _

__“Believe me, leaks are the least of your worries, Morris! _What do you think you’re doing?_ ” _ _

__“Forcing your hand,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Your methods aren’t sustainable in the long run. We’ve been noticed.”_ _

__“By five kids playing at comic book fantasies and a privately owned robot.”_ _

__“Doesn’t matter,” she snapped, irritation with Shen overriding her earlier schadenfreude. “It’s still a compromise we didn’t count on. Command will certainly be examining the results of your actions now.”_ _

__“And the information you gave him?” he growled. “How does that play into your little grudge-match with me?”_ _

__“A calculated risk,” she licked suddenly dry lips, drumming manicured fingernails against the steering wheel as she considering her next words carefully. “He’s already been doing his own research… he would’ve figured it out soon enough. At least this way, he thinks we’ve thrown him a bone… it brings us one step closer from shadowy organization to mysterious benefactor. I’m keeping an eye on his files and search history to make sure he goes in the directions we want him to. It’s under control.”_ _

__“And you say I take stupid chances,” he snorted. “Guess it’s really not my place to say… we’ll see what Command has to say about it.”_ _

__“We’ll see,” Morris said, ending the call on those last words and tossing her phone unceremoniously towards the passenger seat. “Prick.”_ _

__xxxxxx_ _

__xxxxxx_ _

__The doorbell rang right after Honey Lemon ended Fred’s call. She jumped, still very much on edge in the wake of the news he relayed from Hiro._ _

__“I’ll be there in a minute!” she called, looking around for a makeshift weapon ( _just in case_ ) and settling for the old-fashion bottom-heavy lamp in the hallway. Holding the weighted object behind her back in a poor attempt to conceal her motives, she eased the door open a crack to peek._ _

__“Hey,” Gogo greeted her with a weak smile. She held up a large brown paper bag and gave a light shake. “Mind if I come in? I brought some bibimbap from my favorite take-out place.”_ _

__“O… oh, sure! Of course!” Honey stepped aside with a nervous chuckle, setting the lamp down on the floor to the side. Gogo raised a skeptical eyebrow._ _

__“What’s with the makeshift club?”_ _

__“Just, got some… pretty distressing news,” Honey sighed, trying (and failing miserably) not to feel self-conscious standing next to a fully-dressed Gogo in her usual black biker gear. Between the loose camisole top, her favorite strawberry print pajama bottoms, and blonde hair twisted messily atop her head, Honey Lemon couldn’t help feeling little more than naked. “Guess between that and… well, you know… I’m still a little wound up.”_ _

__“Tell me about it,” the shorter woman nodded, small smile pulling into a grimace. “Is everything okay?”_ _

__“Well, it depends,” Honey hedged._ _

__Gogo frowned, “on what?”_ _

__“Are you still mad at Hiro?”_ _

__“Ah,” Gogo sighed. “He told you huh?”_ _

__“Yeah…”_ _

__She stepped over the floral welcome mat into Honey’s colorful apartment then, making a beeline for the plush goldenrod couch against the far wall. Honey closed the door, watching for a moment as her guest sat down and busied herself with setting up various takeout containers on the glass coffee table. “I got plenty for two.”_ _

__“Thanks.”_ _

__Honey moved to sit beside Gogo, her posture stiff as she accepted an offered rice bowl. They both ate in silence, side-by-side, Honey picking at hers while Gogo devoured rice, beef strips, and grilled veggies with a surprising amount of gusto. After a while, Honey Lemon simply watched, handing over her mostly untouched bowl when the other woman finished._ _

__“Here, I grabbed something at Fred’s earlier.”_ _

__“You could save it,” Gogo suggested, even as she eyed the food with a guilty flush. “I bought it for you.”_ _

__“You need it more,” Honey insisted. “Baymax said using your abilities burns extra calories and Hiro told us about how hungry he feels afterwards.” He also carved out a decent chunk in Fred’s snack pantry after their talk, but she chose not to mention that._ _

__“Guess he would know best,” she griped, forcefully grabbing Honey’s container and scarfing down the food with an embarrassed blush._ _

__“Gogo…”_ _

__“I’m not mad,” Gogo said, pausing for a moment to polish off the last side of kimchi. She set her chopsticks lengthwise across the empty take-out and abandoned it on Honey’s table with the rest. “I don’t think I ever was, to be honest. Not really.”_ _

__“I know,” Honey assured. “It’s a lot to take in and this whole thing has been pretty scary, for everybody. I understand… well, I don’t understand _understand,_ but it’s understandable. I’m sure Hiro feels the same way.”_ _

__“He… told me about working with Baymax to control it… or tried too. I’m thinking about it.”_ _

__“Ah, well,” Honey Lemon coughed, shifting nervously as Gogo watched her with a surprising amount of patience, given the thick atmosphere. “That might not exactly be the best idea right now.”_ _

__“Why not?” she demanded, the concern behind her blunt words didn’t go unnoticed._ _

__“Because of what Fred just told me,” Honey said, lower lip worried between her teeth. “Hiro called him after he got home, which is weird enough on its own… you know how bad he is with following up on check-ins. Anyway, Hiro told Fred… that agent with the red hair, Agent Morris… when he went upstairs she was sitting with Cass at the kitchen table.”_ _

___“What?”_ Gogo was already on her feet before the elongated ‘t‘ fully passed her lips. A sudden firm grip on her wrist was the only thing stopping her from rushing out to the Lucky Cat Cafe right then and there._ _

__“It’s okay! She left already and Hiro’s fine! I was afraid too... but he was the one who called Fred, remember?”_ _

__The words registered, but Gogo’s heart was still racing. She was breathing in harsh gulps around a newfound fear of black vans- and the primal one of being forced into a cage under restraints._ _

__“Why was she there?” Gogo asked through clenched jaw. “What does she want?”_ _

__“We’re not sure yet, that’s the problem,” Honey sighed, hyper-aware of Gogo’s warm bare skin under her fingertips. “B… but it definitely seems like she was going for some sort of leverage. She showed way too many cards and didn’t ask for much at all in exchange… Fred thought it smelled fishy too. Something’s going on behind the scenes in… whatever that organization is…”_ _

__“What _exactly_ did she say, Honey?”_ _

__“That she’s been spying on Hiro,” the blonde replied. Gogo’s blood went ice cold. “That she, and probably they, know about his powers. They found a common link between Alters before we did… and it checks out for both you and Hiro. It’s… the SFIT Showcase. They… you guys all attended the showcase. That’s why they started spying on Hiro. They have a watchlist.”_ _

__“And… the team? Have they seen anything to connect him to the team?” Gogo didn’t have much hope, but, _if Hiro has a safe space from them to fall back on, maybe..._ _ _

__“They know,” Honey said, derailing that thought. “They saw him leave the garage in his armor, with Baymax. They didn’t say anything about the rest of the team, though.”_ _

__“They didn’t have to!” Gogo snapped, wrenching her arm free from Honey Lemon’s loosened grip in order to pace. “We were all at the showcase! That means they could be spying on any one of us… on all of us! We didn’t ask for this! We haven’t even done anything illegal! Probable cause my…”_ _

__“Well, technically, vigilantism isn’t exactly condoned by the law.”_ _

__“That’s not what this is about!” the air around Gogo seemed suddenly heavy, difficult to suck in. She stopped pacing, eyes boring downwards into the thick brown carpet beneath her toes- trying to focus on anything in that moment other than how hard it was simply to _breathe._ _ _

__“The entire team has been compromised, but they don’t really care about Big Hero 6. Don’t you see, Honey? We’re all linked to this event and the minute they see an easy in, one of us is getting carted off… forget due process! What happens if Hiro or I lose control? Or, if one day Fred manifests in the middle of town? Or Wasabi? Or,” she couldn’t bring herself to say to say, _you,_ but Honey Lemon inferred her intent all the same._ _

__“Those are all possibilities, yes,” Honey agreed. The mood in her cozy little apartment, decorated with varying shades of bright yellow, oranges, and pinks, had grown overwhelmingly somber._ _

__Gogo turned her gaze to Honey Lemon’s tall lithe figure, slumped on the couch, and thought of her fear earlier; of being left reeling in the wake of doing something utterly impossible- of seeing those sleek black vans pull up and realizing how fleeting your security had suddenly become. The fear of hurting those closest to you because your body no longer made any sense. _Hiro’s already felt all that. And Honey Lemon could,_ the thought chilled her. _It’s a possibility… it could happen.__ _

__The icy fear gave way to a searing heat, flaring deep in her core and spreading outwards like wildfire. She recognized this sensation, had experienced it once before._ _

__“No,” she whispered._ _

__“¿Qué es? What’s wrong?”_ _

__Gogo squeezed her eyes shut just as a neon yellow glow began seeping through her skin. The light burned through her lids, reminding her that there was no escape from this reality. The speedster had only a vague understanding of what her power had done against the Fujita she attacked- there was no time to analyse between fleeing for freedom and getting a handle on her convoluted emotions. Even so, Gogo knew without a doubt that they had manifested with motion and intent behind them. Both those factors were glaringly absent the second time around; who knew what she was truly capable of in such a state. _I might hurt someone… Honey’s here._ New fear fed into the old, and the heat intensified. _ _

__“Gogo!”_ _

___No… Stop. Stop! Go away!_ _ _

__Eyes still closed, she hugged her middle and hunched in on herself, trying (at the very least) to contain the explosive energy within. Her ears buzzed, skin thrumming even as it continued to burn._ _

___I won’t hurt her! Not her! Please… not her!_ _ _

__“Gogo! Look at me!”_ _

__Hands grasped her upper arms roughly, shaking in tandem with the enunciation of Honey’s words. She wanted to yell at the girl, slap those hands away and scream, _“what are you thinking?! Do you have a death wish?!”_ Instead, she snapped her eyes open and fell to the verdant pair inches from her own, filled with worry, fear, determination, and love. _She’s so close… I can make out the different pigmentations in her irises… green, gold, green, grey... it’s like topography…_ _ _

__“Just look at me, Gogo... okay? Calm down, breath with me. Are you breathing?”_ _

__Gogo observed the rhythm in her peripheral ( _she’s still so close_ ), and matched the steady rise and fall of her chest. The yellow taint in Honey’s eyes faded as the heat receded: leaving behind only vibrant greens, and the occasional spire of muddy grey. _It just… stopped. I stopped it. It’s over._ Her muscles vibrated with the influx of excess energy, twitching uncontrollably as residual cold hit her head on. She pitched forward, collapsing into the cradle of Honey Lemon’s arms. The other girl never lost her initial grip. _ _

__“It’s okay! It’s okay! Just keep breathing.”_ _

__“It… it stopped,” Gogo assured, teeth chattering. She pulled back slightly, trying to ground herself again without the aid of Honey Lemon’s eyes, but ended up clutching at the loose thin fabric of her camisole. A vital part of Gogo decried her current actions as pathetic. However, a much larger part was simply overwhelmed with relief._ _

__“I… I’m okay… I think it’s o… over now… thanks, Honey.”_ _

__“Okay, good… that’s good,” Honey exhaled and inhaled deeply. They stood in the middle of her living room for a good five minutes, hugging. They couldn’t stay in that position forever, though, and Honey Lemon still hadn’t said her final piece. Bracing herself, she disengaged from their embrace- crouching until she was level with the shorter woman._ _

__“Okay, Now listen to me, Gogo. We’re a team, the six of us, and we’ll get through this. Together. I know we’re facing a lot of unknowns and everything seems scary now, believe me… I’m scared too, but I also know we’ll put through somehow. No matter what. If one of us develops a new ability, we’ll deal with it as a team. As for you and Hiro… well, I really do believe the two of you will figure out how to control this.”_ _

__“What if we don’t?” Gogo countered, still clinging a bit, uncomfortable with the level of raw vulnerability on display._ _

__“You will. I have faith in you. I trust you.”_ _

__“I don’t know whether to say your optimism is admirable or naive.”_ _

__“A little bit of both?”_ _

__Gogo pushed away fully then, plopping back on the goldenrod couch against the wall. Honey followed her example soon afterwards, though the blonde’s posture wasn’t nearly as boneless._ _

__“Sorry,” Gogo mumbled sheepishly, looking at the pile of empty take out containers left on the glass tabletop: a couple having fallen to the floor during her brief episode. “I came over to _your_ place and just caused a huge mess.”_ _

__“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind… really!”_ _

__“Yeah right, I’m a lousy guest,” the two chuckled together, awkward, unsure where to go from here. “I’ll clean up before I go.”_ _

__“Well, why don’t you crash here tonight?” Honey suggested tentatively, fighting through lingering embarrassment to place a casual hand on the cushion near Gogo’s. “It’s been a very long night… and there’s always an open invitation here for you. I mean, ah… I have a feeling neither of us is feeling particularly safe after today.”_ _

__“Thanks, Honey,” Gogo smiled at her flustered rambling. “I just might take you up on that offer.”_ _

__“No problema.”_ _

__Their eyes met and something positively magnetic passed between them then, something you didn’t ignore. Gogo leaned in, noting the way Honey licked her lips (still soft from the gloss she put on that morning, but no longer shiny) and averted her gaze. Not one to back down from a hypothesis, Gogo raised her hand and lightly dragged fingertips up the long column of Honey Lemon’s neck, coming to a rest along the underside of her jaw. Honey shuddered, breath hitching as she reciprocated the lean, and Gogo thought (proudly) that pink was a very flattering color on her cheeks. Their eyes met again. _There’s definitely something there..._ something equal parts friendship, concern, lust, and an indescribable sense of _homecoming._ _ _

__“Actually, a sleepover sounds like a really good idea,” Gogo said, voice gone slightly husky. She cupped Honey’s flushed cheeks, pulling the taller woman down for a much anticipated kiss._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baker torch/canola oil weapon is a nod to Hedgi's awesome BH6 fic [The Only Pay-Off (For Having Any Faith)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2763851/chapters/6197843) which I highly recommend reading after this if you haven't already!


	7. Epilogue: Patient 0, Update

Zero didn’t remember much of anything before the lab. He had vague impressions, a familiar sense of emotions, and the occasional fleeting déjà vu, but nothing so concrete as a actual memory. Usually, he mourned the emptiness inside him. Sometimes, though, especially on days when a new patient came in screaming (crying) for home, Zero entertained the thought that perhaps he was very lucky after all.

The other patients certainly thought otherwise. They avoided him for the most part, preferring to stare rudely at his extensive facial scars and metal leg rather than sit down nearby and actually talk to him about them. It’s not like they were a sore subject; he didn’t remember not having scars or walking without the aid of prosthetics, after all. They were as much a part of his self-identity as freckles or glasses might be to another.

Whenever the subject of his fire came up, though, Zero considered his luck shot. He hated the flames, felt irrational impulses and bile rise every time the doctor asked him to conjure those sparks. The few individuals who bothered to speak to him on occasion all told him the scars looked like they were from horrible burns. Even though he had no memory of fire before creating his own (and breaking down over inexplicable feelings of, _wrong, wrong, pain_ ) perhaps a deeply rooted seed inside him remembered the scary side subconsciously. Zero resigned himself to probably never knowing. 

“... think he’ll be a problem, Morris?”

Zero lay still on the cot in his cell, listening as a familiar doctor’s ( _the handlers called him... Vasquez?_ ) voice travelled down the hall. Another plus side about being the only amnesiac patient was how often the doctors and staff underestimated his ability to comprehend their conversations. He overheard many interesting things this way. 

“If he is, his true colors will show soon enough. For now, he’s better off where he is… not raising any further suspicions about our operation. The last thing we need right now is more government scrutiny. People have already started noticing our presence at manifestations.”

“True, the higher-ups have already warned Shen to step back… wait until they’re in the hospital or out of public at least. Still, if Hamada is as troublesome…”

Zero gasped. The rest of the doctor’s words faded out as emotions, more visceral than any he’d even experienced before, washed over him. He couldn’t couldn’t put a finger on any one single emotion: save an overwhelming sense of sadness and want so painful he thought it might be longing. And it all centered on one spoken word.

_That name... Hamada,_ it meant something to him, something important- just tauntingly out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Part 1! Part 2, _Alter Shock!_ is currently in the works.
> 
> You can also see others who participated in the Big Bang on Tumblr: [here](http://bh6bigbang.tumblr.com/). And check out the awesome art done by ghoststrawberries, kiwi-peacock, and lilidani15 for this fic!


End file.
